Heroes and Villains
by Teenwitch
Summary: Past is past and we must live the present to survive the future. GSR. Long overdue repost.
1. Chapter 1

**Heroes and Villains: Chapter one**

Sara thought it strange that suburbia could look so normal in Las Vegas.

She gazed out the window as the trees lining the street rushed past, evenly spaced above symmetrical modern white houses that could have been in the middle of California, not on the outskirts of illustrious Sin City.

She rotated her sunglasses vaguely in her hand as she observed the neighbourhood with feigned indifference, inwardly fascinated by the human need for normalcy, even in a city that thrived on its eccentricities.

She glanced at her quiet companion, Gil Grissom, who unlike her other colleagues, felt no need to broach the silence with attempts at conversation. And though a year ago the silence might have been awkward, they had now regained some semblance of their previous friendship, and Sara felt comfortable enough to study their surroundings without speaking.

Their crime scene was a neat, modest house identical to its neighbours. Police vehicles already interrupted the symmetry of the other homes, scattered unevenly in front of the curb, and the dark black coroner's van stood out in stark contrast with the blinding white of the house and flawless green lawn where it was parked in the driveway.

Grissom steered the Tahoe to a space behind Brass' sleek black Denali, and Grissom rounded the driver's side as Brass stopped near Sara.

"Hey", she greeted politely.

Brass nodded. "Hey guys".

"What've we got?" Grissom asked, straight to business, gesturing towards the house behind them.

Brass frowned at them, not answering directly. "Is it just you two?"

Sara shook her head, sliding her sunglasses on her head. "We're shorthanded. Nick's coming over to help us when he can get here."

Brass nodded. "That's probably a good thing. You're going to need it".

At their impatient, unappreciative looks, he sighed deeply. "Victims are two males, one mid-fifties, other in his twenties. So far unidentified. According to the couple who own the house they came home from vacation, and found them in the living room."

Grissom tilted an eyebrow, obviously intrigued. "Home robbery gone wrong?"

Brass looked at him wryly. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? But there's nothing missing, and if you'll forgive me, these two guys don't exactly look like your typical thugs."

"There's such a thing?" Sara said jokingly.

He allowed her a brief, tired smile. "Anyway, the killer didn't go easy on them. It's pretty messy in there. And there's something that doesn't quite mesh with the couple's story".

Grissom frowned. "You think they might have had something to do with it?"

Brass shrugged. "I wouldn't rule it out. They don't exactly look like your typical suburban family. I'm guessing they came into some money. But you better check out the bodies before you make any assumptions."

Grissom gave him a look. "I never do".

Grissom and Sara followed Brass up the neatly paved path into the house, which was just as pristine on the inside as it was on the outside. White walls, white tiles, delicate mahogany furniture that looked quite expensive.

Sara slanted an eyebrow, resting her kit against her leg as she glanced around thoughtfully.

There was an almost… too perfect look to the place. A fakeness that somehow managed to make her skin crawl.

The entrance hall led into the living room, where the scene of carnage was unmistakable. Unlike the rest of the house, the sofa was overturned, a lamp was smashed and broken, and the white carpet held obvious patches of blood.

Sara's eyebrows lifted as she took in the scene. The younger man was slumped by the fallen sofa, arms spread out above his head. The back of his head was caked with blood and a dark pool was stained in the carpet in a circle under his skull. The older victim, who bore a vague resemblance to the other, lay on his side near the door on the other side of the room. He was hunched almost in a fetal position. Sara's gaze was immediately drawn to the fire poker protruding from the centre of his stomach, and she could see why.

"Damn", she muttered softly.

Brass nodded grimly. "Yeah, looks like things got pretty rough".

David hovered in the corner of the room, obviously waiting for them. "David", Grissom greeted briskly. "Have you done the liver temps yet?"

The coroner nodded quickly. "Yes, sir. Both died approximately eighteen hours ago".

"They look related", Sara observed, to no one in particular.

Brass was right. They didn't look like criminals.

The detective nodded. "That's what I thought".

Sara and Grissom got to work, quietly opening their kits to collect trace evidence from the bodies so David could take them back to the morgue. Methodically, they started to process the scene.

Sara briefly studied Grissom as she dusted the fallen lamp for prints. He looked unaffected by the carnage around him, but he usually did. She could never tell how he dealt with these cases. Whether he really could remain detached from it all, or whether it was just an act. She knew all of them had at one time or another accused him of being unfeeling, but if there was one insight she had gained from the Debbie Marlin case last year, it was that it certainly wasn't the case.

She sighed, realising that for the first time she had been making a conscious effort to get past him this year. Which wasn't to say it was working.

She glanced at him again as he placed some fibres in an evidence bag, and this time he glanced up, meeting her gaze across the room. She swallowed, wondering what he was thinking now he had caught her staring at him, but he just cleared his throat, replacing the bags in his kit.

"I think its time we talk to the owners."

Sara nodded, unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed at his easy dismissal. "Yeah. There's definitely something wrong going on here."

They both strode back out into the blinding sun, weaving through several vehicles as they made their way towards Brass and the couple in question, standing across the street.

Sara stepped out in front of their Tahoe when she was afforded with her first view of the pair with Brass and she stopped abruptly.

Grissom thudded into her from behind, and he stepped back, frowning as she whirled to face him.

"Sara!"

She was blind to the look of irritation on his face, and the fact that she had turned just a little too close to him, heart suddenly thundering wildly in her chest.

"I-uh, I can't go over there".

She swallowed, eyes wavering over his unsteadily, as he gazed down at her in confusion. "What?"

She fumbled for an excuse, feeling shakes run through her as she braced herself against the car unevenly. "I… I really don't feel very well, Grissom. I think I need to sit down". Quiet desperation tinged her voice. "Please. I can't go over there."

He stared at her. She thought she probably really didn't look so well at that moment, but she couldn't quite tell if he believed her.

"Okay", he said softly, unreadable expression apparent in his eyes. "Of course I won't make you go over there. Why don't you sit in the car for a while, and I'll get Nick to help me when he arrives?"

She nodded, grateful beyond belief that he didn't question her sudden bout of 'illness'. "Thanks."

"Sure".

He looked uncertain, but she also detected a hint of dubiousness in his gaze, and patted her gently on the arm as he finally passed, continuing on his way to do the questioning.

Sara slumped weakly in the passenger's side of the car, leaning her head back against the seat as she struggled to get her breathing back to normal.

She ran her hands over her face as she felt her heart rate slow to a regular pace, realising that if her nightmares really hadn't just developed into full-fledged hallucinations, then she had just glimpsed the face from most of them.

00000000000000

Grissom approached Brass; uncomfortable with the thought that Sara had just lied to him, and the homicide captain gestured to the couple with obvious distaste. "This is Gil Grissom from the crimelab. He'll have a few more questions to ask you. Gil, Clark Jenson and Louise Sutton."

Gil lifted an eyebrow, noting their non-married status. Not that that was unusual these days. But considering the neighbourhood, he thought Brass' earlier remark about the basis of their wealth might have some level of truth.

"You found the bodies?" he inquired politely.

Clark nodded slowly. "Yeah. We've been in Bermuda for the last week. We just got home this morning, and there they were. Scared the hell out of us".

Grissom pursed his lips musingly. "Did either of you know the two men?"

Both shook their heads, but there was a certain level of tension in the air that Grissom found interesting.

"Okay", he said calmly. "Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to get a sample of your DNA. To rule you out as suspects".

Clark stiffened, rising to his full height. "Just wait a minute, Mr. Grissom", he said angrily. "Me and Louise already told you we were on vacation. We had nothing to do with this."

Grissom met his resistance with a cool exterior. "Yes. And if we have your DNA, it will verify that."

Brass loudly cleared his throat. "It's just procedure, Mr. Jenson", he said evenly. "If you don't volunteer it, we'll just be forced to get a warrant."

Clark looked like he was going to protest further, but Louise quietly put a hand on his arm, gently calming him. He sagged against the contact, sighing deeply. "Fine", he said tightly.

Grissom studied the woman briefly. She exuded a quiet confidence that seemed to ground her partner. She met his gaze easily. "We'd like to help, Mr. Grissom", she said quietly.

He nodded, retrieving a swab to collect the samples. "Thank you".

After he was done, Brass excused the pair, glancing at Grissom questioningly. "What do you think?"

Grissom pressed his lips together slightly. "I think there's something they're not telling us".

Brass nodded. "No kidding", he said shortly. He glanced around, closing his notepad with fluid precision. "Where's Sara?" he added as an afterthought, noticing the brunette's absence for the first time.

Grissom was reminded of her strange behaviour and a deep frown crinkled his brow. "She, uh, said she felt sick. I told her to sit in the car".

Brass gave him a look, slowly shaking his head. "You told her to sit in the car? Wow, how considerate of you, Gil. Did you give her any water? Aspirin?"

Grissom was silently annoyed by Brass' immediate certainty that he was so insensitive. "I'll go check on her", he said curtly, firmly ignoring his comments.

Brass rolled his eyes. "Good idea."

Grissom strode slowly towards the car, scowling slightly. He didn't want to voice his doubts about Sara's sincerity to Jim, knowing they would make him appear even less sympathetic than his friend already thought he was. Jim had been oddly protective of Sara since the DUI incident. His concern for Sara was almost paternal. Grissom knew his relationship with his own daughter was very strained. Sara was like a substitute in some ways.

He took the time to wonder what Sara's relationship was like with her own father. It occurred to him that he didn't know much about the personal lives of each of his CSIs, even Sara, who had been his friend before Vegas, if you could call exchanging emails and the odd phone call over long distance a friendship.

_And whose fault is that_? he reminded himself wearily.

Sara sat in the passenger side, staring blankly at some spot on the dashboard. He stopped beside the open door hesitantly. "Sara?"

She blinked, quickly glancing at him. She did look sort of ill. But she had been fine earlier inside, and he knew nothing triggered a nauseous stomach like a particularly gruesome crime scene.

"Are you okay?"

She straightened in her seat, glancing at him briefly. "Yeah", she said, avoiding his gaze for too long. "I think I just got a patch of heatstroke there", she continued, smile a little too forced. "Mind if I take everything back to the lab when Nick arrives?"

He nodded slowly, wondering why she found it so necessary to lie to him. But he knew if he called her on it and he was wrong, it would only make the void in their friendship more pronounced by suggesting he didn't trust her.

"Of course."

She nodded as well, offering him a small, less artificial smile of gratitude. "Thanks." She paused, eyeing him uncertainly. "Did you get their statements?"

He frowned, deciding he would ignore the unease in his gut for now. "Yeah."

"Good". Her eyes focused on something ahead. "Nick's here."

He didn't follow her gaze, instead taking the moment to study her. She looked considerably better now she had an excuse to go back to the lab. He couldn't remember the last time Sara forwent fieldwork in favour of the lab.

He was becoming increasingly worried about her. He knew the shift changes had made it difficult for him to observe her the last couple of months, but the last conversation they had had still rested uneasy with him.

He still didn't know whether she had said those things to him because she was trying to move on, or because she needed to get them out there. He was still dissatisfied with his own attempt at a response, but when wasn't that the case?

Still, they didn't seem to have liberated her of anything. And he got the feeling there was something much heavier weighing her down, which had nothing to do with him, or their complicated relationship – something that was becoming progressively more difficult for her to ignore.

But then he was forced to step back so she could move into the driver's seat, and he handed her the keys, wondering if he was really just offering her another way to escape whatever was chasing her.

00000000000

Grissom was staring at his desk, debating which mound of paperwork to tackle first, when someone rapped on his door.

He glanced up, just as Catherine confidently sauntered into his office, and slumped casually on the chair opposite him.

He was glad to see her. Since her promotion, they didn't see nearly as much of each other as they once might have, and he knew he wasn't the only one who missed it. Lately Catherine had taken to dropping by his office for impromptu chats, and he welcomed the interruption.

She stretched, eyeing his desk in dry amusement. "Have you ever thought of taking a time management course?"

He gave her a depreciating scowl, amending that last thought. _Well, usually. _"I'll put it on my list of priorities", he said irritably.

She gave him a patient smile. "I heard about your case", she said thoughtfully. "Do you think they were robbing the place?"

He removed his glasses, touching the tip to his chin thoughtfully. "I've thought about it. It seems unlikely. Nothing was missing. And there are no signs of a third party."

"Do you have any ID's yet?"

He shook his head. "I haven't talked to Al yet", he admitted. "We're pretty shorthanded right now. I had to get some of this done before I give Ecklie even more ammunition to use against me."

Catherine sighed unhappily. "Yeah, I know the feeling. You're lucky we're having a good week, or there's no way I'd be giving you Nick".

He glanced at her, noticing she looked a bit haggard herself. Her new job had to be taking its toll on her. It was a big shift from CSI to supervisor.

"How's your caseload going?"

She shrugged idly. "Warrick and I are on the only case. It's pretty cut and dry. Convenience store robbery. The perp was the owner's brother, looking for his cut on the profits. Warrick's finishing it up now."

Footsteps sounded at the door, and they both glanced around as Nick stopped at the threshold, holding a thin wad of papers in his fist. He looked slightly pale, and frowned as he looked at them.

"Hey Nicky, what's up?" Catherine asked, looking slightly concerned.

Nick pursed his lips, glancing down at the file again. "I uh, did a background check on both of the owners of the house in our case", he said reluctantly.

Grissom stared at him strangely, and Catherine took it upon herself to speak up. "So what did you turn up?" she prompted receptively.

Nick licked his lips, seemingly uncharacteristically surprised by what he had uncovered. He sighed. "Okay, well, Louise Sutton? She changed her name".

They both looked at him blankly. Hardly the significant admission they had been expecting.

"So?" Grissom said, unimpressed.

Nick met his gaze head on. "So", he said emphatically. "Her real name… is Laura Sidle".

00000000000


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Wow, guys, really. I wasn't expecting much new feedback a second time around! I think I love you guys grins.  
Yep, this was written before Nesting Dolls aired, and I won't be changing any plot points because hello, I am lazy, so obviously some things are going to seem inaccurate against the current explanation of Sara's backstory. I'm going to have to ask you to wipe that episode from your memory (yeah, like that's gonna happen). Heh, I am the queen of cliched summaries, aren't I?

**Heroes and Villains: Chapter two**

Grissom blinked at Nick with a slowness that belied his usual intelligence. Catherine's mouth fell open.

"What?"

"_Excuse_ me?"

Nick stared back at them unwaveringly. "Yeah".

"Are you… _sure_?" Catherine enquired incredulously. "Her name was really Laura _Sidle_? As in… I mean…"

"I checked", Nick said bluntly. "She's Sara's mother".

Catherine clutched at her armrests, spinning around to look at Grissom wildly. "I don't believe this. Does Sara _know_ about this? I mean that her mother is… involved?"

Grissom remembered her abrupt standstill at the sight of their suspects. Her sudden reluctance to stay at the scene suddenly made sense.

"Yeah", he realised quietly, mouth dry. "She knows".

Catherine blinked, struggling to comprehend what he was saying. "Well, I don't understand", she huffed harshly. "Why wouldn't she say anything? She can't just compromise a case like this. Any evidence that she touched will automatically be discounted".

"There's something else", Nick said, slightly annoyed by Catherine's disparaging comments, and he bit his lip slowly. "On her background check? She has a record. Laura Sidle… was in prison for the last 20 years. She was convicted of second-degree murder."

Grissom and Catherine stared at him.

Catherine abruptly shot to her feet, snatching the file from Nick's hands tersely. "Let me see that!"

Grissom sank back in his chair, staring at Nick with dawning apprehension. Suddenly every little uneasy concern he had ever had about Sara made a sense he didn't want them to. Her sensitivity with some cases, her blind drive for justice, her tendencies for depression.

_Who… did her mother murder?_

"This is…. There is no way… " Catherine's face blanched as she flipped rapidly through each page of the file, and Grissom decided he had no desire to know what it was she found so appalling.

Nick looked deeply angry with himself for not realising this sooner as he stood beside Catherine, silently watching her process everything he had just seen.

Movement in the doorway suddenly caught his attention, and he glanced up as the object of his jumbled anxieties strode into the room. His heart hammered in his chest at the sight of her.

"Doc Robbins has an ID on the two victims", she informed them easily. She stopped, glancing up from the papers in her hand as she realised they were all staring at her in horror.

"_What_?" she asked, suddenly paranoid.

Nick took a step closer to her, earnest brown eyes boring into hers. "Why didn't you tell us… about your Mom, Sara?" he asked softly.

The papers slid from Sara's hand and scattered all over the floor at his startling, personal question. She stared at him, body suddenly stiff with tension. "Excuse me?" she whispered disbelievingly.

Nick wasn't to be deterred by her sudden coldness. "Did you think we wouldn't find out, Sar?" he said gently. "That we wouldn't figure it out?"

She was suddenly blinking wildly, and she whirled towards the door, which he had managed to block with his broad frame.

"Get out of the way, Nick", she said through clenched teeth, struggling to move around him.

He held his arms out, unwilling to let her pass. "Sara—"

"_GET OUT OF THE WAY!"_

He jumped aside at her shrill scream, and her heels clicked rapidly on the floor as she shoved past him and disappeared around the door.

Nick's mouth fell open as she fled, and he turned back to Grissom and Catherine slowly, disbelieving that such a simple, innocent question had evoked such a reaction.

Catherine slowly dropped the file on a nearby table, watching as Nick swallowed hoarsely, sagging against one of the nearby shelves housing Grissom's various specimens.

"I… can't believe we didn't know this".

Grissom slowly straightened behind his desk, glaring accusingly at Nick. "That was not how I would have handled that situation", he said darkly.

Nick looked back at him in disbelief, unwilling to take the fault his old boss suddenly directed his way. "Right," he muttered bluntly. "How _would_ you have handled it?"

Catherine sighed, looking contrite on Nick's behalf, since he was suddenly so vehemently opposed to the idea. "Gil, Nick was just surprised, he didn't think—"

"No, he didn't", the nightshift supervisor cut in curtly. "Sara did not need a group intervention. You both saw what was in that file, and I'm sure its more than enough to upset her, as we so _evidently_ saw."

"Well what the hell would _you_ have done?" Nick spat suddenly, speaking to him with more brazen audacity than he ever would have when he was his supervisor. "Ignore it? Or maybe just talk to her about it in a few months, when you thought she had cooled down just enough so you didn't have to face the real problem?"

"Nick!" Catherine hissed warningly.

Nick ignored her. "You're supposed to be her supervisor and you didn't even see that there was something wrong with her! There's been something up with her for months, man, at least I noticed it!"

"Nick, you have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't I? I know a lot more than you think I do, Grissom, and it's about damn time somebody faced up to it—"

"HEY!" Catherine interrupted loudly, stopping the two of them short. "I'm sorry to interrupt your sudden _pissing_ contest, but we have something a little more important to deal with right now!"

Nick avoided her gaze, clenching his jaw as he ran his hands over his buzz cut tensely, and they plunged into awkward silence.

"You don't uh, think she could do anything stupid… do you?" he asked after a while, stumbling over the words.

"I don't know, Nick", she said quietly, unwilling to consider such a possibility.

"Nick, go see Doc Robbins", Grissom ordered abruptly, sounding very tired. "Find out what he got on the autopsy, and who our two victims are."

Nick stared at him like he was crazy. "What? But—"

"_Just do it, Nick_!" Grissom snapped loudly.

Nick glared at him, but he looked suitably cowed after Catherine's reprimand, and left without another word, muttering something decidedly uncivilised under his breath.

Grissom didn't look like he cared. He glared at Catherine pointedly. "Don't you have work to get back to?"

She wasn't going to be intimidated by him. "What are you going to do?"

He sighed, clipping his pager briskly to his belt. "I don't know. I'll see if I can find her."

She hesitated, knowing that emotional confrontations were hardly her old boss's forte. "Grissom… I know we don't have the full story here, but I think you should tread very lightly."

He met her gaze solidly. "I know, Catherine".

She glanced down, turning down her jaw grimly as she nodded. "I'll clean this up", she added, gesturing to the floor. "Before I… get back to work".

He nodded again, ignoring the curious, hushed gazes from several lab techs as he strode abruptly down the hall. He knew he had been a little too terse with Nick before, but there was no other way to deal with it.

He had _known_ there was something going on with Sara for a long time now. He should have approached her about it, but he was hardly socially apt as it was, without including his tendency to say the wrong thing around her.

_Sara's mother was convicted of _murderhe thought uneasily._ And that makes her a more than viable suspect in our case. _

He quickened his pace down the hall, unsure what he was going to do even if he did find her.

00000000000

Sara stared down at the dried blood caking the otherwise flawless carpet, the shattered lamp that looked like it was worth more than her living room lounge-set alone.

She crouched on the floor, staring at the void where the younger victim's head had been crushed hollowly.

So. This was her home now.

It was certainly a level or two up from Sara's childhood home. The stained carpets, the dusty cabinets and sparse, second-hand furniture. The B & B had suffered severely after her father's death. It was only months until it was out of business.

She ducked her head, shining her torch vaguely over the surrounding floor.

How long had she been out of prison? She had been sentenced for 20 years, but Sara knew she had been eligible for parole before that.

_How long has she lived in Vegas?_

To think, they could have lived in the same city for months, and she never knew about it. She could have rounded an aisle in the supermarket, or bumped into her on the street, but the cosmos had decide in a cruel twist of fate that this was the way they would reintroduce her back into Sara's life.

She scoffed, leaning back on her haunches disbelievingly.

'_Why didn't you tell us…. about your Mom?'_

As if that wasn't bad enough. She knew it had been stupid to assume Grissom couldn't possibly figure it out, when her avoidance of the crime scene had been so blatantly obvious. She'd never thought that she would be stupid enough to underestimate his intelligence, but it looked like there was yet another mistake she had allowed herself to make around him. She'd hoped she could at least delay their discovery, until she was sufficiently prepared for the outcome.

Too late now. She didn't know what they knew, but the horror; the utter shock in their stares had spoken volumes.

_They already know way too much. _

She could see the yellow light on the floor shuddering unsteadily, and she glanced down at her hand, realising that she was shaking.

She shouldn't have come here. Now that she knew, her mere presence was everywhere, in every contour and cornice, manifesting in a vivid flurry of scents and sounds that sunk at Sara's chest, made her feel like she was twelve years old again, and nothing had changed. She wasn't a Harvard graduate, a successful CSI, she was completely vulnerable and afraid and inferior and inexperienced.

_Alone_.

She straightened swiftly to her feet, dropping her flashlight on the floor. She cursed, running a hand over her face, forcing herself to calm as she bent to retrieve it. She started to straighten again, and stopped.

On the mantel was a small, silver framed picture. In it was her mother, standing next to the broad figure of the man she assumed to be Clark Jenson, and below them was a child, playing with a dog. She swallowed, staring at it with an immense burning in her throat. She knew they didn't have children. It was probably a neighbour's child, or a friend or relatives, but it didn't make the sight any easier.

Abruptly, she turned, swinging the torchlight with her, and came face to face with the darkened form of Gil Grissom.

She let out a surprised cry, jumping backwards in fright. She closed her eyes, clenching the flashlight tightly to her chest, where she could feel her heart thundering wildly.

"_God_, Grissom!"

He looked apologetic and unsure, and he eyed her over uncertainly. "Sorry".

She blew out a breath irritably, moving around him, starting out the front door, switching off her torch. She felt him striding behind her.

"What are you doing here, Sara?"

She stopped on the concrete driveway, whirling to look at him in the dim surrounding streetlight. Why did he have to be here? How had he ever _found_ her here?

"What does it look like, Grissom?"

He looked at her disapprovingly. "Well, to begin with, it looks like you came to a scene by yourself, without telling anyone, when you could have been attacked or worse."

She rolled her eyes, feeling unusually brash since her secret had been revealed. "You know what? I don't really care".

He narrowed his eyes, unsettled by her declaration. "And second, you know that you can't be working this crime scene, because I have to take you off the case."

She blinked at him unthinkingly, shaking her head slowly. "You really think that I care about this stupid case?"

Grissom frowned. He looked completely uncomfortable with the entire situation and for the first time she could remember, she didn't really care. She was surprised he had even come looking for her. Her reaction in his office hadn't exactly instilled stability, and he didn't usually seek out emotional confrontations with her.

"Why didn't you tell me… that she was your mother?"

She stared at him, insides churning with conflict. Her counsellor had encouraged her to tell him. She had tried. She usually just ended up babbling about their relationship, which was really better suited to an entirely separate conversation.

"Just because we come from the same genepool… does not make her my mother", she murmured quietly, turning towards her car.

Grissom stopped her with a hand on her arm, and she snapped away from him like he had burned her. She didn't need his pity. She had never hated anything more than the way he was looking at her.

"Sara…"

"You didn't read the file, did you?" she asked him softly, forcing herself to lift her head, meeting his quietly forceful stare stubbornly. "Because if you did, then you wouldn't be asking me that question."

She had seen many a suspect quiver with fear and trepidation under his intimidating stare in an interrogation, but she forced herself to stand tall and ignore the penetration in his gaze that pressured her to spill all of her secrets.

"No, I didn't".

She lifted an eyebrow sagely. "Why not? I'm sure you were curious. It's just another titbit to add to your limitless curiously about the human condition, right?"

He narrowed his eyes slightly, and she thought he was annoyed. Good. She was getting to him. It was about time.

"I wanted to hear it from you".

She just shook her head, brown locks falling messily around her face. She stepped away from him, still clutching her flashlight like a weapon.

"Since when have you wanted to hear anything I have to say?" she muttered unexpectedly.

He sighed deeply, looking down. "Sara…"

"Have you seen it in there?" she asked seriously, waving at the immaculate house they had just departed. "Brass was right when he said they must have some unusual finances. If you want the key to your case, I suggest looking there."

He pursed his lips. "Why were you here, Sara?" he asked, again, earnestly.

Sara swallowed, feeling her lower lip waver dangerously. It was definitely time to get out of there. "I wanted to see… I just needed to see it", she admitted at last. "Knowing she lived here".

His eyes crinkled with a sympathy that she couldn't bear to see, because he couldn't possibly understand. "Sara… you're going to have to be prepared for things to come out in this investigation", he said slowly, voice low and gentle. "Things about your past. Things… that you might not want other people to know."

"She'll know", Sara said suddenly, in a voice so small and lost she saw him flinch in surprise. "Won't she? She'll know that I'm here".

He shifted awkwardly. "Sara…"

She really wished he would stop saying her name like that. She straightened rigidly. "Forget it. I'm going home, okay? I can't… talk about this right now."

Grissom hesitated. "Okay".

She glanced at him haltingly, letting her arms fall helplessly by her sides. "Grissom? Look I… I don't want you to read the file", she said softly. "Just… not yet, okay?"

He met her gaze, and for a long moment they just stared at each other in the darkness. She didn't want him to read an impersonal account like just another case file. If the others had seen it, then she could deal with that, but she didn't want Grissom to be able to look at it objectively. She wanted him to care.

He met her plea with a silent nod. "I won't", he said quietly, after a pause.

She nodded, taking another step towards her car. "Thanks".

She refused to glance back at him as she climbed into the driver's seat, and started the ignition. She had no idea what he was thinking about this entire situation. But he had abided by her request, and for now, that was enough for her.

0000000000000


	3. Chapter 3

**Heroes and Villains: Chapter three**

When Sara was a kid, she swore she would never live in a tourist town again.

Which was why it was ironic, really, that she ended up in Las Vegas.

Tamales Bay was small, but it was a community that thrived on its tourism as much as its fish trade for survival. Vegas wasn't much different.

_Maybe that's why she came here. _

Sara had loved it, growing up. Taking travellers into their B&B, hearing their tales of diverse life experiences and occasionally differing cultures, satisfying her natural curiosity for things unknown. When her father died, of course, things became different. The small community suddenly became stifling and oppressive, and the visitors weren't so nice anymore.

Soon, there were no visitors at all, and Sara didn't know what was worse, witnessing her father's dream and livelihood go to ruin, or the relief she felt when it did.

Sara sat at her breakfast bench, idly fingering the smooth edge of the fruit bowl as she stared into space.

She hated that her co-workers, some of those whose opinions she valued most, had witnessed her panicked escape from the lab. Sara Sidle did not run. Sara Sidle did not scare easily.

Both were carefully constructed aspects to the outer façade she had perfected for years, and had become transparent at the mere mention of Laura Sidle.

She scoffed, lowering her head to the cold hard surface of the bench. Grissom had said things from her past were going to come out. Things she had hidden from. Her counsellor had persuaded her to face them, and instead they were rearing up, unbidden and unwelcome, without her control.

She glanced at the thin manila folder sitting on the kitchen table, turning her head on the tiles. It had been under her front door when she arrived home, and she still wasn't entirely sure who had left it there.

_Nicky, maybe,_ she thought absently. _As a peace-offering. Or Grissom, before he came to find me._

If it was him, it was comforting to know he hadn't intended to read the file even before she asked him. He wasn't willing to learn about her secretive past on paper. That was something.

She sighed deeply, closing her eyes. The emotional events of the past few hours had drained her physically, but she knew if she tried, she wouldn't be able to sleep. Or worse, she would, and recurring nightmares would plague her.

Lifting her head from the tiles, she pulled away from the bench, striding across the living room for her bathroom.

Alcohol used to be her answer to this problem, but that was no longer an option. She riffled around in the medicine cabinet, ignoring her wan reflection in the mirror hanging over it, until her slender fingers finally closed around the small prescription bottle.

Striding back into her bedroom, she popped a few sleeping pills, and swallowed them with a swig of water. She was uncomfortable with chemicals assisting her body with something that it should do naturally, but this was a necessary compunction.

She lowered herself to her pillow, not bothering to undress first, and let the cold darkness of sleep slowly claim her, temporarily releasing her from the anxieties preying her mind.

00000000000

"So", Brass said thickly. "You didn't mention that you left your vacation early".

He and Grissom stood in the neatly furnished interior of Clark Jenson and Louise Sutton's hotel suite, eyeing the couple suspiciously.

Clark Jenson folded his arms, meeting Brass' glare unflinchingly. "So?"

Brass slanted an eyebrow. "_So_, you were booked at your hotel for a week, but you came back a day early. Conveniently placing you in Vegas at the time of the murders. You care to explain that?"

Grissom leant against the open doorframe between living and kitchen areas, surveying the conversation quietly, content for Brass to lead the questioning.

His gaze shifted over Clark's tightly wound frame, veins popping visibly in his forehead, who looked like he might snap any minute. Judging by the cautious proximity of the accompanying officer, he wasn't the only one who thought so.

But Grissom's interest was directed less at him, and more at the slender, unruffled woman beside him, who appeared completely unaffected by the whole situation. His gaze was involuntarily drawn to her with a fascination he couldn't quite contain.

This woman was Sara's mother.

It was an entire shift since he had last spoken to her, but no amount of time would make him forget the cold hatred in her eyes when she spoke of her mother, or the fearful desperation in her voice when she realised she might know of her presence in Vegas.

Louise Sutton must have only been in her mid-fifties, but she could have been younger, if Grissom hadn't known that Sara was in her thirties. Her years in prison had not weathered her in the least. She was shorter than Sara, with longer, dark brown hair, pulled back in a sleek ponytail at the nape of her neck.

Her features remained unbothered and showed little signs of wrinkles or blemishes, a sign of good genes, or expensive skin care products, he wasn't sure.

She was dressed casually, in dark black slacks and a blue button-up shirt, and carried herself with a gentle, unassuming confidence that surprised him, for a convicted felon.

He was well aware that appearances could contain the most twisted, sadistic minds underneath, but he found it difficult to glimpse in this woman.

Her eyes darted up, sensing his scrutiny, and she fixed her dark brown gaze on him steadily. He swallowed, suddenly overcome with an immense feeling of discomfort, wondering why he hadn't noticed it before.

Her eyes were exactly like Sara's.

"We don't have to explain anything to you, detective", Clack spat angrily. "We decided to come back early because Louise was sick. That's it".

"You seem fine now", Grissom observed quietly, glancing at Louise – _Laura_ – pointedly.

She shrugged calmly. "I have a good immune system".

Brass cleared his throat. "Well that's great, but it still doesn't account for at least 24 hours".

"Our flight was delayed", Louise said evenly. "We arrived back in Vegas at about 3 o'clock that afternoon".

"And yet you didn't arrive at your house until 8 o'clock the following morning", Grissom said. "At least, according to your statement."

Clark scowled. "We went to see my brother. We were drinking that night, so we slept there, and headed home in the morning."

"And like I said", Brass piped up sardonically. "Funny how you didn't mention that earlier".

"We didn't think it _mattered_", Clark spat, starting to get exasperated.

"Well, we think it does", Brass said flatly. "Because it means you were in Vegas when the men were murdered. Seems a little too coincidental, doesn't it?"

"You have nothing to hold against us", Clark said angrily.

Grissom shook his head slowly. "No. But if you had anything to do with those murders, we soon will".

Brass gave them a promising glare as they started towards the door. "We'll be checking with the airline to verify your claim", he added darkly.

Clark sneered. "Knock yourself out".

Grissom hesitated behind Brass and the officer, in the threshold to the door. "Oh, Ms Sutton? I was just wondering. Do _you_ have any family in the area?"

Her brow creased ever so slightly, but he thought he saw a flicker of knowing behind her dark eyes. "No. I don't."

"Why do you need to know that?" Clark snapped, much more hostile.

Grissom shrugged dismissively, but his eyes had narrowed almost imperceptibly at Louise Sutton's response. "No reason", he said simply.

He followed Brass and the officer out, who instantly retreated to his cruiser when his radio started to crackle. Brass regarded Grissom as he paused in front of his Tahoe, face cast in shadow under the dim streetlights.

"Nicky called before", he informed the supervisor slowly. "He gave me the ID on our two vics. They're running a check on them now".

Grissom nodded slowly, thoughts drifting. "Good".

"So what's going on, Gil?" the homicide captain asked bluntly, sharp eyes surveying him coolly.

Grissom stared back at Brass with practiced indifference, the question catching him off guard. He found himself thankful they were in darkness.

"What are you talking about?"

Brass rolled his eyes, duly annoyed. "I saw you in there, staring at that woman like she was the strangest new thing under your microscope. I mean she's got a few years on you, Gil, but…"

Grissom scowled, fully aware the detective was goading him. "Jim, please".

Brass was unswayed. "Well, _what_ then? What was that last question about? You know something I don't?"

Grissom hesitated now, for the first time in his career wishing he didn't work with seasoned professionals who noticed everything. He made apparently meaningless observations to suspects all the time – why did Brass have to pick up on this one?

"It doesn't really pertain to the case, Jim", he admitted at long last.

Brass just gave him an unimpressed scowl in response. "Gil, need I remind you that if it concerns the suspect, it _always_ pertains to the case."

Grissom pursed his lips, knowing his friend was right, and he was in no position to make exceptions. "All right. You should know that Louise Sutton has a criminal record."

Brass narrowed his eyes. "You're just telling me this now? For _what_?"

He definitely wasn't going to like this. "For murder", Grissom said reluctantly.

Brass looked extremely pissed. "Have you got a screw too loose, Grissom?" he yelled angrily, spreading his arms wide. "This could be the case breaker and you _forgot_ to mention it? I don't believe… I never thought I'd have to tell _you_ how to do _your_ job. I'm calling dispatch. We're bringing her in for questioning, _right_ now!"

"Just wait a minute!" Grissom snapped, and the captain blinked.

"For what, Gil?" Brass said irritably. "What is so damn important you couldn't tell me about this earlier?"

Grissom ran a hand over his beard, sighing tiredly. "Look, that woman is not who she says she is".

"Yeah, no kidding, Sherlock, that's why I'm calling her in".

"No, that's not it. Look she's… Sara's mother".

Brass blinked at him like he had lost his mind. The rush of cars on the highway was deafening in the sudden silence that encompassed them. "Are you kidding me?" he managed to get out at last.

Grissom leant back against his truck. "Do I look like I'm joking to you, Brass?"

Brass frowned, struggling to associate the cold, collected woman upstairs with Sara Sidle. "Are you… sure?" he said dubiously. The serious expression on Grissom's face in response reminded him of a soap opera. This was cliché enough to be one. Not that he ever watched any.

Grissom only nodded mutely, obviously having had time to adjust to the situation himself.

Brass glanced up in the general direction of Louise Sutton's hotel suite. He frowned more deeply. This was a political nightmare. Not that he gave a damn about that either. "Oh this is just… great. Really. Just what we need."

"I'm not exactly overjoyed by the prospect myself".

Brass watched the graveshift supervisor warily. "So what's the story with this?"

Grissom's expression remained carefully indiscernible. "I wish I knew".

Brass hesitated, wincing slightly as he considered the consequences this was going to have for Sara. "Gil… you know we're going to have to bring her in."

"Yeah".

Brass sighed deeply, lowering his head. "I'm definitely getting too old for this".

000000000000

Sara's palms were perspiring as she wiped them absently on her jeans, striding slowly down the hall. She cleared her throat, knocking gently on Grissom's door to get his attention.

The atmosphere in the breakroom had been stifling and quiet as soon as she entered. Nick and Catherine watched her uncertainly as she crossed to get a mug of coffee; she inwardly wishing her caffeine requirement wasn't so high. Greg had also been present, tackling Grissom's crossword puzzle like he didn't have a serious death wish, and he had sensed the tension immediately and had too remained uncharacteristically silent.

The others couldn't ask anything while he was there, so there followed an intense two-minute stare-off in the time it took Sara to brew more coffee before she left again.

Now she sighed, as Grissom lifted his head, and his eyes connected with hers hesitantly. One thing she resented was being treated like a brittle china doll. If she had proven anything, it was that she was capable of handling drastic situations.

"Hi", she said slowly.

He cleared his throat, lowering his pen as he regarded her. "Hi".

She licked her lips, recognising the familiarity of the moment. She brushed off the sense of déjà vu. She didn't want this to go like their last conversation in here. "Are you busy?" she asked, gesturing to his work.

He glanced down, shaking his head. "Oh, no. Not at all. Come in".

"Thanks".

Their polite civility felt oddly forced, and she closed the door quietly behind her, an action not lost on him, signalling the gravity of her visit.

Sara hesitated, lowering herself gracefully into the chair opposite him.

"How are you?" Grissom offered tentatively, folding his fingers carefully over his half-finished paperwork.

Sara smiled slightly; appreciative he had given her an opening. "Okay. Look, I wanted to apologise for my… blow-up yesterday, and what I said to you at the crime scene". She shrugged sheepishly, attempting to dismiss her behaviour. "It was out of line".

Her voice was calm and level, an abrupt transition from her manner the previous day. Grissom studied her; uncomfortable with how familiar her behaviour was to him. She was closing off from everyone, repressing her emotions from the surface. He knew what that looked like. He did it all the time. He was hardly an expert at broaching those walls when he was usually the one building them, but something wasn't right here. He didn't want Sara to cope like he did. It didn't work very well.

"You don't have to be sorry", he said seriously.

Sara blinked at the uncharacteristic gesture, but she quickly replaced her confusion with a tight shrug. "Yeah, well. I wanted to ask you something." She glanced down. "I wanted to know… considering we're so shorthanded right now… whether it would be all right if I still helped on the case".

Grissom sighed deeply, sagging back in his chair. "I don't think that's such a good idea", he said quietly.

She clenched her fingers tightly around the armrests of her chair, the only sign that she was having difficulty maintaining her composure. "Grissom, I don't care about the outcome. I won't do anything to compromise—"

"She's your mother, Sara", Grissom said quietly, patiently, like he was addressing a difficult child. She disliked that immensely. "And for now, she's a suspect".

Sara shifted impatiently, looking at something over his shoulder to avoid meeting his piercing blue eyes. "You let Catherine investigate things that could jeopardise the unit. You used to cover for the boys all the time. Why can't you make the same exception for _me_, for once?"

Grissom frowned slightly, but it was resigned and tired. "Because if I keep making those same mistakes, then Ecklie will only finish the separation he started".

Did that mean… he didn't want to loose her? She dismissed the thought, too impatient with him to linger on it. "Grissom, I don't _care_…"

"I think you do".

She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. She licked her lips. "Grissom", she murmured, suddenly soft in her appeal. "If you take me off the case… then everyone is going to know why".

Grissom met her gaze, expression clearly conflicted, and they stared at each other silently for what felt like eternity.

A brisk knock at the door interrupted their stare-off, and Brass strode in, looking extremely harried. "Hey Gil, I… _oh_. Hey Sara. Sorry to uh, interrupt…"

Sara met the detective's gaze, glimpsing the flicker of sympathy there instantly. Her eyes darted over Grissom sharply, silently accusatory.

He met her look ruefully. "He had to know, Sara".

She slumped back in resignation, nodding slowly. "Right. It's um, okay, Brass".

Brass pursed his lips hesitantly, expression contrite. "I'm real sorry, kiddo".

She looked away. "Yeah. Me too".

Brass cleared his throat uncomfortably at the sudden tension. "Gil, we need you down at PD for some uh, questioning".

Grissom nodded, glancing at Sara carefully. If she knew what Brass was referring, she gave no indication. "Sure. I'll be out in a minute".

Brass nodded himself, turning hesitantly back into the hall.

Grissom returned his attention to Sara, expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed heavily, sliding a hand under the pile of papers, and retrieving a thick folder. He held it out to her gingerly, meeting her gaze significantly. "This is the prelim. Just look over it, that's all".

Sara's gaze met his uncertainly, slowly darting down over the file. She tentatively closed her fingers over the edge, accepting it from his grasp.

"Thank you", she said softly.

He nodded, rising to follow Brass out into the hall.

She stared down at the folder in her lap, forcing herself not to question the motivation behind the kindly gesture. She swallowed, wondering now that she had what she wanted if the things she read would bring up more questions, or give her the answers she wasn't yet willing to face.

000000000000


	4. Chapter 4

**Heroes and Villains: Chapter four**

Laura Sidle leant back in the hard, steel institutional chair without a flicker of any telling emotion coming over her features. She blinked back at Grissom and Nick as they waited for Brass, taking in the impersonal white interrogation room with nary a glance, like it was all familiar to her.

Which, Grissom thought vaguely. It probably was.

Nick looked uncomfortable, but he was quite successful in hiding it. It was only Grissom who spotted his fingers drumming a nervous beat on his knee under the table, and the shift in his posture every so often.

Brass arrived with a short nod of apology in their direction, having been caught by the Sheriff in the hall, who Grissom had swiftly bypassed when it was made known he was not the one Atwater was seeking. He had some idea what it was about, and the added gravity in Brass' expression confirmed as much.

He sighed, clasping his hands together on the table as he turned his attention back to Laura.

"Ms. Sutton", he started slowly, letting his voice linger over her spurious name deliberately. "How long have you been in a relationship with Mr. Jenson?"

She tilted an eyebrow, meeting his gaze easily. "I would say about a year".

"And you've lived in Vegas how long?"

She considered. "Three months, give or take".

Grissom made sure to hide the surprise on his carefully indifferent face. They were playing the same game, really. Both concealing what they felt underneath a fabricated stretch of civil words.

"Ms. Sutton, we tracked your financial records", Brass spoke up calmly. "And you and Clark lived and out of hotels before you bought your dream home. I'm curious to know how you could afford such a sudden expense."

She smiled patiently, unsurprised by this question. "Clark recently came into some money", she explained. "Quite a bit, actually. His estranged father passed away. We decided to make a new start away from California."

"Is that why you changed your name?" Nick said bluntly. "To escape your identity as a convicted murderer?"

Her soft smile didn't falter. It was quite unnerving. "Yes".

"So why Vegas?" Brass prompted, leaning idly against the wall behind Nick. "The scenery? The attractive real estate?" His sarcasm was more than evident.

Laura tilted a shoulder impassively. "No particular reason", she said evenly. "Clark used to live here as a child".

"Doesn't that really defeat the purpose of starting anew?" Grissom queried slowly.

Laura glanced at him, pausing momentarily. "Some ties are difficult to break, Mr. Grissom".

He narrowed his eyes, questioning the real meaning behind her words as he nodded slowly.

"You say you didn't know the victims?" Brass spoke up, quickly changing tactics. The vibe between Grissom and Sara's mother was anything but friendly. "Charlie and Daniel Hett, father and son. Sure they don't ring any bells?"

Her expression didn't change. "No, they don't".

Nick nodded. "Maybe this will refresh your memory", he said, retrieving a highlighted page from a folder in front of him. He slid it across the table so it was just within her view.

"Phone records, from your residence a month ago. Three of those calls are to Charlie Hett, and lasted over ten minutes each. What do you talk about for ten minutes with a man you don't know?"

Laura lifted her eyebrows. "You'd have to ask Clark about that".

Nick smiled humourlessly. "I'm sure we will".

"See, Charlie Hett was Paul Jenson's old business partner", Brass started thoughtfully. "I figure hey, he probably thinks he's a little entitled, right? He deserves that money more than a son Paul never saw, right? I don't know, maybe there was a glitch in the will, or Paul didn't update it. You found out abut this, and you weren't happy, were you? Your great new lifestyle might be ruined, and its back to the motel 6 for you. So you call Hett up. Tell him you could come to some agreement. Then you go on holiday before they can arrive, give yourself a bit of an alibi. You leave early to make your meeting. Charlie brings his son, which is trouble, but not impossible. With Clark's help, you'd have the two of them gone like that, no more problem."

Laura actually looked annoyed, and straightened in her seat slightly. "That's quite a story, Detective Brass", she said slowly. "But just because I have a criminal record, does not mean I commit murder on a regular basis. I served my time, and I'm not likely to jeopardise my new future by repeating something so stupid. I learn from my mistakes".

Nick cocked an eyebrow impassively. "Your previous crime was one of passion, but it _was_ premeditated, Ms. Sutton. This wouldn't be that much of a stretch".

She seemed to have regained most of her cool, and now only regarded them with frosty indifference. "My previous crime was to murder my boyfriend because he was _abusive_. I hardly think this falls under the same category".

Grissom frowned slightly at this admission. He didn't think Sara's reaction portrayed Laura Sidle as simply a protective parent.

Nick stared at her intently. "If I recall correctly, his abusiveness wasn't the reason", he stated plainly.

She leant back again, crossing her legs calmly. "Which was simply the word of an emotionally disturbed teenager who had just lost her father, not mine."

Grissom tilted an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Is that why you came to Las Vegas?" he asked quietly. "To be closer to your daughter?"

She met his gaze levelly. "I haven't seen my daughter since she was thirteen years old", she responded calmly. "Believe me, her residence in this city is purely coincidental".

"There are no coincidences", Nick said seriously.

Brass's gaze was conflicted, like he was seriously considering escorting them both out. This interrogation was getting too personal. Hell, it already was.

Fortunately, Laura chose for him.

"I think I should contact a lawyer", she said smoothly. "If you would like to question me further".

"It'd probably be best", Brass advised darkly.

She rose to her feet, nodding as the detective politely followed her out.

"Man", Nick said, slumping in his seat. "She is one piece of work".

"Yeah", Grissom grunted quietly.

Nick glanced at him. "Sara didn't tell you yet", he surmised. "Why she was in prison?"

Grissom shook his head. "No", he said shortly.

Nick paused. "I couldn't tell… if she was lying or not. She's good. Really good".

"A master at deception", Grissom murmured. "But messy, at murder. If it was her, we'll find the evidence to prove it".

"Yeah", Nick agreed, nodding evenly. "I sure hope so".

000000000000

Catherine peered into the dimly lit layout room, where Grissom was studying Charlie Hett's clothing intently. She tilted a perfectly plucked eyebrow wearily.

His interest in the case was already bordering on unhealthy. It was nearing the end of her shift, and it already looked like he had been here a while.

"Hey", she called, clearing her throat so as not to scare him.

He glanced at her over the rim of his glasses "Hey, Catherine".

She gestured to his work, leather jacket slung casually over her arm. "Find anything interesting?"

He returned his gaze to the article in question, magnifying glass in hand. The shirt was stained with heavy blood over the front, and had a ragged hole where the sharp poker had protruded.

"A few hairs. Nothing particularly incriminating as of yet".

"What about the murder weapon?" she questioned, striding over to his side to glance over the trousers lined out beside the shirt.

"Jacqui's fuming it for prints now."

"Was it used for both murders?" she asked, leaning her palms casually over the table.

Grissom shook his head. "Daniel Hett's skull was crushed with a blunt object. I sent Nick over to look for anything matching the shape of the contusion".

Catherine hesitated, biting her lower lip. She was hardly going to start holding back now, but it didn't hurt to have some measure of tact when dealing with Grissom.

"Gil… how long have you been here? Your car was here before mine. You should give it a break, go home for a while".

He sighed impatiently. "I'm fine, Catherine".

"Really?" She rested her hands on her hips as she faced him. "Because it looks to me like you're getting too involved in this case. In fact, I'm distinctly reminded of the Debbie Marlin case last year. Hmm. Let's see. What's the common denominator here?"

"Catherine", Grissom warned lowly.

She ignored him. "You _always_ do this when it's her. If you could admit you have feelings for her, then I could accept that, but you don't. You just do things like this".

Grissom looked tired, and in no mood for her implications.

"I'm doing this because the Sheriff wants this taken care of as soon as possible, Catherine".

She snorted. "Since when do you give a damn about office politics? This is about Sara; it's always about Sara. I understand why you're upset, this is a sensitive case, but this is getting ridiculous, Gil. Just do something healthier to get her out of your system, like a good old roll in the hay, instead of wearing yourself into the ground".

With that parting advice, she turned and shifted her jacket to the other arm, heading out the door.

She was well aware Grissom's interest in Sara probably required more than a simple physical encounter, but it damn well couldn't hurt. And if his feelings for her ran deeper than that, then he needed a nudge to realise it, because she was sick of this ongoing courtship between them. The whole lab was. Sara certainly was.

And Grissom needed to get his act together soon, because she definitely wasn't waiting forever.

00000000000000

Sara closed her locker door with a resounding bag, sighing deeply as she wound her scarf around her neck. She had been going through the Hett murder file until Greg came to her requiring help on his own case, which took the rest of shift.

She knew Grissom would reconsider his offer if he caught her working overtime to read through the case, so she was going home, completely involuntarily.

Greg sauntered into the locker room, a boundless ball of energy. If there was one thing gained from the messy staff changes, it was her closer friendship with Greg. She enjoyed mentoring him, and he provided more than entertaining company when she was feeling less than cheery. But sometimes she wondered just where he got his energy from, especially at the end of an eight-hour shift.

"Hey, Sar", he greeted, tugging open his own locker, and pulling out his jacket. "Man, I am so jazzed. Wanna hit that pancake place, get some breakfast?"

She smiled slightly, leaning back against the locker bank. At least someone wasn't treating her like a leper. "No thanks, Greggo. I think I need some sleep".

Which was true. It didn't necessarily mean she was going to get it.

Greg paused, eyeing her thoughtfully. He closed his locker. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked seriously.

She shrugged offhandedly. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

He frowned, unimpressed by her attempts to dissuade him. "Because there's something going on, isn't there?"

At her quiet, he sighed. "Come on. I'm a CSI too now, remember? I know there's something up".

Sara shrugged grimly, pulling away from her slouch. "Yeah, okay. There is. That doesn't mean I'm ready to talk about it".

Greg hesitated. Where the others might have backed off at her hostility, he simply nodded slowly, as if in complete understanding. "Okay. Well, when you are… You know I'm here for you, right?"

She felt a small, genuine smile tug at her mouth. He never ceased to surprise her. "You're a good friend, Greg", she admitted quietly. "Did anyone ever tell you that?"

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Just friend?"

Sara laughed lightly. He smirked, letting her know he was kidding. She touched him gently on the arm. "See you tonight, okay?"

He nodded, grinning again. "Count on it".

Sara smiled, flicking her hair out over her scarf and jacket as she strode from the locker room. She passed Grissom's office, noting it was empty and slightly relieved that was so. He had been pretty attentive and nice to her lately, but that didn't mean it would last. She didn't want to tempt the fates by allowing herself to welcome his compassion.

She continued on, rounding the corner at the end of the hall as she passed on through the lab. And she stopped abruptly.

Laura Sidle stood waiting in reception. And before Sara could turn, she glanced around and her calm brown eyes met unswervingly with Sara's.

00000000000

Sara heard the blood rush in her ears. She was sure, in that endless, horrifying moment, that her heart stopped beating in her chest. She felt her limbs slacken, and her eyes go wide, and Laura Sidle met her gaze squarely.

Her smooth delicate features were cool and unreadable, but her brown eyes flickered languidly over hers, and Sara instantly knew that she recognised her.

Her feet felt like lead, and she wasn't sure how long it had been before she saw Grissom appear in the corner of her eye, and move swiftly over to her.

She was dimly aware of his warm, strong hand on her arm, but all she could focus on were those dark, deceptively calm brown eyes, eyes that so clearly mirrored her own.

"Sara", her mother said softly, and she would have thought the background din of the lab had silenced, things were suddenly so soundless.

Sara didn't respond, couldn't respond, staring at her dully.

Laura's gaze shifted over Grissom, taking in his familiar proximity to her daughter.

"Mr. Grissom", she said slowly, with a knowing he did not like at all. "You didn't tell me my daughter was one of your employees".

Sara was so stiff she felt like cardboard through his touch. Grissom cleared his throat. "I think you can imagine why", he said evenly.

Her gaze returned to Sara carefully. "Sara", she said, again, softly. She didn't look as surprised as she should have, but Grissom thought he saw a flicker of something go over her face. Love? Regret? Or something else, something unreadable but there.

Sara still hadn't said anything. Grissom didn't know if she was capable of it, but her silence was unnerving. Like waiting for a coiled spring to snap.

"Mr. Jenson, we'll be in touch", Nick's voice, earnest and distasteful in its familiar Texan drawl cut into their intense stand-off, as he and Clark emerged from an interrogation room down the hall.

Chris looked irritated, and not nearly as restrained as his lover, and he noticed their odd triangle first. Nick's gaze followed, and he looked immediately ill at ease.

Laura shifted at the sight of Clark, who joined her slowly. None of them had moved.

Clark gazed over them with a frown. "Are you harassing her again?" he said shortly. "We're done with your questions today. Let's go, Louise".

Nick was tense, standing behind them, and Laura hesitated, gaze lingering over Sara softly. "I've thought about this moment", she informed Sara quietly, like they were discussing something as mundane as the weather. "Everyday".

"I'll bet", Sara managed, voice unsteady.

Laura took a step towards her. Clark looked deeply confused. Sara tensed, and Grissom's clasp tightened reassuringly on her arm.

"You look so much like your father", her mother murmured, lifting her palm to hover longingly in the air between them, near Sara's cheek.

Something in Sara snapped. Grissom could tell the moment it happened. Her body slackened in his grasp, and she recoiled from Laura's touch like she had poisoned her.

"Don't you TOUCH ME!" she cried, expression twisted angrily, and Grissom reflexively grabbed her to keep her from attacking the woman. Her rage instantly infused her with adrenaline, and Grissom had difficulty holding her back.

"You _BITCH_!" she screeched. He and Nick both cringed at the sudden, utter hatred in her voice. Grissom didn't think he had ever heard so much hatred in Sara's voice. _"_Don't you talk to me about my fatherYou _RUINED_ MY LIFE!" Laura had stepped back in surprise, and Sara grappled for her, struggling in Grissom's grasp. "I wish you were DEAD, do you KNOW THAT? You mean NOTHING to me! Don't come _near_ me, just STAY AWAY FROM ME! _You ruined my life!_"

She was verging on hysterical, and they had attracted quite a crowd. Grissom ignored them, tugging her backwards, talking to her soothingly.

"Come on. Come on".

She shoved away from him, scrambling away from his grasp. "Get OFF me, Grissom!"

Nick stepped up to Laura and Clark- who looked like he was ready to jump on the defensive himself —and glared at them coldly.

"Out. Of the building. Right now".

Laura's cool façade had barely faltered, and she turned first, with cool, brisk steps, leaving Clark to hurriedly follow her. Nick stood by, expression darkening, and he turned to the reception desk, where a few curious lab occupants had gathered in hushed awe.

"HEY!" he snapped. "Show's over!"

They hastily dispersed, ducking their eyes, obviously fully prepared to set the office grapevine churning.

Grissom had pulled Sara into the hall, away from prying eyes, and she was shaking uncontrollably, clutching her palms over her shoulders.

"Sara?" he said tentatively. "It's all right. We'll get out of here, okay? I'll take you home."

Sara didn't respond, letting him lead her out into the carpark, which was illuminated dimly by the early light of day. She had entered some sort of broken, catatonic state, and he was briefly fearful until she blinked, and lifted her head to glance up at him.

"I-I can't, um…" she tried helplessly. "G-Grissom, I…"

Before he quite knew what he was doing, he slid his arms around her and pulled gently pulled her against him, enfolding her in a hesitant hug.

Her felt her stiffen in surprise, but the adrenaline in her system had all but vanished, and she slowly slumped against him, burying her face against the crook of his shoulder, both of them acutely aware that this was probably the closest they had even been.

Sara couldn't handle it anymore. His proximity made the tears burst out of her without her control, and she shuddered from the strength of them as his hold on her tightened, clutching the back of his shirt between her fingers as she was overcome with wave after wave of long-contained sobs, like she was drowning and he was her only anchor to safety.

He had no idea so much pain had resided behind her pretty, carefully arranged features for so many years. He was overcome with the urge to comfort her, when he had never particularly had such an urge with any other person before. His social skills always made him hesitant at the action, yet with Sara it was a natural desire, and it scared him.

However, for the time being, he momentarily set aside his deep-seated insecurities and cradled her against him with a tenderness that surprised both of them.

00000000000000


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for the feedback, guys. I'm glad you're enoying this (and I'm glad some of you are enjoying it _again_ lol).

**Heroes and Villains: Chapter five**

Sara stared down at her tea, and didn't know whether to be embarrassed or grateful at Grissom's hesitant attempts to comfort her.

After the scene in the parking lot, he had driven her home, and she still couldn't forget the warm, safe feeling of his arms around her.

He leant uncertainly against her kitchen counter, watching her quietly, looking out of place in her apartment, and she hated to tell him that she really didn't feel like any tea, because he looked so earnest and hopeful.

So she shut up, and took a sip.

The hot liquid ran down her throat, and she barely registered the taste. The temperate did jolt her out of her musings however, and she glanced up at Grissom over the rim of her cup.

"So how many people saw my, uh, major meltdown?" she asked at last, lowering the mug to the veneer of the table.

Grissom looked hesitant, and ran a hand over his beard vaguely. She found the gesture comforting, in a way, because it was a familiar sign of contemplation for him. "A few…" he admitted awkwardly.

She smiled humourlessly, glancing down at the table. "Yeah. That's what I thought".

She gestured to him absently, knowing that she had more than likely freaked him out with such rapid shows of emotion one after the other. "You don't have to stay here, Grissom. You can go home. I'm fine now, really".

Grissom sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "Are things really so bad between us that you can't talk to me anymore, Sara?"

She frowned slightly, lifting an eyebrow at the unexpected comment. "Things have gotten better", she said softly, haltingly. She wasn't sure she even really believed that one.

He pursed his lips, shrugging faintly. "But things aren't like they were, are they?"

She chuckled slightly, but it was sad. "Grissom… things can't ever be like they used to be. I definitely made sure of that".

He glanced at her sharply. "Look, Sara… The last time you said that I wanted to tell you… The things that have happened between us are my fault. You know that, don't you?"

She shrugged, frowning slightly. "Why the sudden personal admissions, Grissom. Are you trying to get me to share mine?"

He didn't look away. "Maybe."

She sighed deeply, wrapping the string of the teabag vaguely around her index finger. Grissom's sudden keen desire to know her past was understandable, but uncharacteristic. She supposed she owed him an explanation after her display that morning, which was sure to be all over the office by next shift, but Grissom rarely showed an interest in pursuing any personal conversation with her. She knew they intimidated him, and the fact that he had initiated this one gave her pause.

"Do you know both of your parents, Grissom?" she asked at last, quietly.

He slowly lowered himself into the chair opposite her, watching her intently. "No. I don't. My father left when I was five."

She nodded, smiling slightly. "My PEAP counsellor said to me you can learn a lot about people by their relationship with their parents."

He shrugged carefully. "Does that explain anything about me?"

She met his gaze, mocha brown eyes fixated on his levelly. He shifted, feeling uncomfortable under her scrutiny. Sara Sidle was a very perceptive woman, and if there was one thing he didn't like, it was having her focus her perceptions on him.

"A little", she admitted softly, enigmatically.

Grissom cleared his throat. "Your father died when you were a child", he surmised quietly.

She looked away, pressing her lips together. "He died when I was ten", she answered reluctantly. "A brain aneurism."

"I'm sorry", he offered tentatively.

She shrugged. "Yeah, well. It happens, doesn't it?"

She looked contemplative. "We owned a Bed and Breakfast when I was a kid. It was his pride and joy." She sighed. "I always had bigger ambitions than that, but he was happy to stay in Tamales Bay forever, just running his little business." She shrugged. "He died pretty suddenly. It was the first time I ever realised that he was the one that held our family together."

Grissom remained quiet, allowing her to tell her story without prompting or rushing her. It was a technique he had learnt well in interrogations, in order to get a confession out of a suspect. But he didn't want to pressure Sara.

"Did your mother… raise you by herself?" she asked, shifting the conversation back to him when her memories become too painful. Grissom found himself allowing her to disclose his secrets, something he would never have allowed of anyone else. "Did she ever remarry?"

"No. She raised me alone."

She nodded, looking thoughtful. "My mother wasn't that strong. She needed the support. The B&B started to attract some pretty shady people. She… met a lot of men, that way", she muttered distastefully.

"There was this one guy that stuck though. Chris. The business went broke after he showed up and he just stayed around. I didn't like him, but I didn't see him for what he really was until he lived with us for a few months."

She stopped, gazing down at something on the table. Grissom sighed. "What happened, Sara?"

She pursed her lips. "He… hit my brother first. He was nearly sixteen, but Chris was a lot bigger than him. When he got older, he barely came home just to stay away from him."

She swallowed, glancing down at her now cold tea. "I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised when he moved on to me".

She saw Grissom's face twitch in the corner of her eye, but she didn't look up. "The thing is, my mother didn't do anything about it. He hit her too, but I was an easier target. As long as he didn't touch _her_, she didn't care what he did. She needed him around so much that she was willing to let him hurt me." She stopped, closing her eyes painfully.

"Sara…"

"It's okay". She waved a hand glibly, avoiding his gaze. "When I was thirteen, everything changed. I got home from school one night, and I knew something had happened. Everything was… quiet. I went upstairs, and there was blood… everywhere. All over the banister, and the floor. Chris was lying in the hallway, in a pool of his own blood. She killed him. My _mother_ had found him sleeping with someone else, and that's why she did it. Not because he hurt her children, or her, but because he was with another woman."

She scoffed, drawing circles in the condensation on the table vehemently. "The police couldn't prove it, but they made me testify against her, and… the jury believed me. I had to testify against my own _mother_. I hate her, but that was just… After that they… put me into foster care until I was sixteen. My brother got custody of me, but I went to Harvard a year early to get away from him, because he was so screwed up."

She stopped, glancing up at him slowly, and a long pause descended over the room.

"That's why I became a CSI", she admitted, running a hand vaguely through her short brown locks. "To stop people doing things like that to each other. You might accuse me of having too much empathy, Grissom, but my past helps me understand victims better than most people."

He frowned. "I can't believe… that this was your childhood, Sara".

She shrugged. "Everyone has demons, Grissom. Everyone has issues in their past. They might not be as obvious as mine are, but they're still there."

She looked down again. "You know… it wasn't until I met you that I actually started to like what I did. You were so interested and passionate about it, and just listening to you talk about it… it made me realise that it could be something I could really love. So… I guess I wanted to thank you, for that".

Grissom's expression was indiscernible, but he looked slightly troubled. "There was potential in you that had nothing to do with my influence, Sara", he said gently. "I knew that as soon as I saw you".

Her brow lifted slightly, as if she was considering that he might have noticed her before they were actually introduced.

"I read through the case file", she said, abruptly changing subjects. She rose from her chair, bracing her hands on the back as if to physically distance herself from him now she had bared her soul so completely. "Not all of it, but a bit. I know that my opinion probably isn't going to matter much after this… but I don't think she did it".

Grissom glanced up at her, genuinely confused. "Why not?"

Sara exhaled tiredly. "She isn't the type of person who would let… money motivate her like that", she explained. "I just don't think… what she did to Chris was personal. This isn't like that".

"She's killed before, Sara", he reminded her gently. "It's been twenty years. If she could survive prison after that… It's a valid assumption."

Sara frowned. "Look, I know it would be an easy solution if it was her. I just don't think it is, okay?"

He nodded, sensing her frustration. "Okay. Sara, you know I'm not going to choose the easy way out. I'm going to follow the evidence. No matter where it takes us".

Sara chewed her lip. "I heard the Sheriff has been pressuring you about the case".

Grissom's face instantly clouded over at the mention of the Sheriff. "Yeah. He has".

"Does he know… everything?"

"Not yet. I thought it would be better to determine whether or not your… Laura was our primary suspect, before I informed him of your connection to her".

She nodded shortly, grateful that he seemed to be acting unusually sensitively because of her. "Thanks. I appreciate it".

She hesitated, drumming her slender fingers over the back of her chair. "Grissom, I um… I want you to know that I… I'm grateful for all you're doing for me. Keeping this to yourself and… and letting me tell you everything first".

Grissom glanced up at her, cobalt eyes intense and unreadable. "Despite where our… relationship has ended up, I still care, Sara", he responded quietly.

Sara swallowed, unable to let go of his gaze. "I know".

He nodded, looking away first. He slowly climbed to his feet, so they were once again at eye-level "Are you… concerned that Laura might try and contact you?" he asked cautiously.

Sara cleared her throat, quickly shaking her head. "No, after today I don't think… In case you haven't noticed, she's a pretty intelligent woman."

Grissom lifted an eyebrow sagely. "Yes. I noticed".

She slowly strode around the table, moving over to the small cluttered desk in the corner. She lifted a familiar brown folder from the assorted papers, moving back over to him. "Here", she said, holding it deftly towards him. "You probably need to read this now".

Grissom's gaze went from her to the folder, expression slightly sad. She knew then that he had been the one to leave it there.

"I'm sorry", he said, sincerely.

Sara blinked. "You're sorry for what?" she asked uncomprehendingly.

He sighed. "I should have… asked you about this years ago".

Sara frowned, placing the folder on the table in front of him when he didn't accept it.

"It's my issue, Grissom. I thought I could keep it in the past and I was wrong. It's nobody's fault but my own".

He hesitated, sliding a broad hand over the top of the casefile. "I'll let you get some rest then".

Sara nodded, slowly striding behind him as he started for the door. He stopped in the threshold, and Sara leant against the door, eyeing him questioningly.

"Sara… I don't want things to be like this between us anymore".

Sara tilted an eyebrow, but she looked down. "Look, it's been a long day. Maybe we should just… leave things for now."

She didn't know why she was pulling back from he was trying to say, but it was probably a self-preservation instinct more than anything else. She had just shared more with him than she had ever shared with anyone – at least anyone she cared about – and it was expected for him to feel some compulsion towards her, out of guilt or sympathy. She didn't want to deal with it right now, when he was only going to pull back after this situation was resolved.

She couldn't read Grissom's expression, but he almost looked disappointed. "Yeah. Of course."

Before she could stop herself, she leant forward on her heels, and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his cheek, just above the roughness of his stubble. "Thanks", she whispered softly, allowing him to see her gratitude. He blinked as she pulled back again, looking surprised, but he nodded slowly.

When she closed the door, he took a moment to right himself, clutching the folder against his chest. His cheek still tingled from where she had kissed him, and he was deeply confused. No one left him reeling quite like Sara Sidle.

000000000000

Warrick downed his third Styrofoam cup of coffee, narrowing his eyes down at the jumble of words on the paperwork spread out in front of him.

He glanced at the clock mounted on the breakroom wall, noting that it was near the start of his _actual_ shift. He had been working since 4am that morning, struggling to get the last of one of his cases ready for court.

He spotted Grissom's familiar form disappear into his office, and his frown deepened. He hadn't seen much of the old team lately, and he'd been too busy to even chat with Nick or Cath, but he'd heard the rumours running around the office just like everybody else.

As far as he knew, the graveyard had been acting strangely on their current case for a while, and then Sara had had to be physically restrained from attacking one of their suspects this morning, apparently. It had been around the time he had gone down to the deli for a breakfast break, and he hadn't been around to witness it, but everyone was saying that she knew the woman.

Some of the rumours were pretty out there, even for this lab. Before Greg joined their ranks he had been pretty heavily involved in the office rumour mill, but Warrick knew since they lost his input the key gossips were Bobby Dawson and David Hodges, the latter with more malice than the former.

Warrick stretched, massaging the space behind his eyes. The most popular theory circulating was that she was Sara's mother. He didn't know what to make of that, but he didn't like hearing about it secondhand. Sara was his friend, and he was genuinely concerned about her. He decided to take a break.

Grissom's office door was closed, and Warrick knocked softly, peering cautiously inside. "Hey Griss".

Grissom was staring intently at several photographs spread out on his desk, and he glanced up, quickly sliding them under some papers. "Warrick."

Warrick lifted an eyebrow, striding in slowly. "Bad time?"

Grissom shrugged. "No. Not at all. Come in".

Warrick closed the door behind him, slouching in the chair opposite Grissom's desk. "I've heard some pretty interesting things lately."

Grissom sighed, looking tired. Warrick spotted the dark circles under his eyes and wondered when the last time was he got any sleep. "I bet I can guarantee most of them are inaccurate."

Warrick shrugged. "That's what I figured. Which is why I wanted to check in. Everything okay?"

His old boss looked slightly relieved Warrick didn't come right out and ask it. He appreciated his tact. Warrick knew before the staff changes, Grissom had wanted him to be his successor, if and when he decided to leave. They were alike, in a lot of aspects, and he had always appreciated Grissom's support. He wasn't like Catherine. He didn't thrive on gossip. He was just asking out of concern.

"Not particularly", the supervisor admitted. "The Hett case… is proving more complicated that we thought".

"So it's true then", Warrick guessed. "Your suspect is related to Sara".

Grissom nodded, sighing deeply. "Yeah".

"She okay?"

Grissom shrugged. "To be honest, I couldn't tell you." He frowned, as if considering something. "Warrick… can I ask you a question?"

Warrick leant back in his chair, eyeing him thoughtfully. Grissom's need for personal conversation occurred very seldom, and Warrick was curious when it did. "Shoot".

"From a personal viewpoint, do you think it's easier for someone who's killed to do it again?"

Warrick furrowed his brow. "I don't know. I think once you've crossed that line… it's easy to do it again."

"The offender never pardons."

"Shakespeare?" Warrick guessed.

"George Herbert".

Grissom pursed his lips, looking contemplative. "Even when they appear to have redeemed themselves?"

Warrick bit his lip. "I couldn't say this without context… but I don't think anyone who's deliberately killed someone can ever erase it."

Grissom lowered his glasses, rotating them in his fingers grimly. "That's what I thought".

Warrick frowned, studying him intently. "Grissom, don't take this the wrong way, but you don't look so good. Your shift doesn't start for hours."

Grissom gave him a small, ironic look. "I believe you were wearing that shirt last night, Warrick".

Warrick smirked slightly, shrugging. "Okay, yeah, but I'm not in the same zone as you or Sara. You guys work way too much. You could both… use a distraction. You know?"

Grissom narrowed his eyes slightly, but he just nodded, and Warrick knew he had understood the veiled suggestion. He wasn't one to regularly interfere in others lives, and certainly not Grissom's, but the thing with Grissom and Sara was so obvious it was ridiculous, and he was starting to get tired of it.

"Well, I better get back to work", he said casually, rising from his chair.

Grissom replaced his glasses on his nose. "Good luck in court tomorrow", he offered, and Warrick was surprised he was still up-to-date on his activities. He smiled weakly.

Grissom returned his attention to some document in front of him. "And I appreciate the advice".

Warrick paused, unsure if he had meant his prior opinion or what he had just suggested, and decided it was better not to question him on it.

Warrick was relieved to have helped somehow. Whatever he had said seemed to have lightened Grissom's burden somewhat, and he returned to his work with less reluctance on his face than before.

0000000000


	6. Chapter 6

**Heroes and Villains: Chapter six**

Nick carefully rotated the hefty lamp as he studied it in the layout room. He was about 99.89 sure that this object was their second murder weapon. The wound on Daniel Hett's skull was more than likely caused by the rounded base of a blunt object and Nick thought this lamp was their winner.

He held his tweezers over the base, noticing that a small, thin fibre had been caught in the lining.

"Well hello", he muttered, unable to stop a satisfied grin from forming on his lips.

"You _know_… talking to yourself is the first sign of madness", a male voice quipped lightly from the doorway.

Nick barely glanced up as Greg strode into the lab, swinging himself up onto the stool beside him.

"What's up, Greg?" he asked vaguely, concentrating on the fibre with a soft frown.

He saw Greg shrug in the corner of his eye. "You do know your shift ended half-an-hour ago, right, Nick, my man?"

Nick blinked, glancing at the clock over the door. "Guess I lost track of time", he muttered uneasily, sliding the fibre under a glass slide.

Greg sighed, tapping his fingers vaguely on the bench top, staring at some distant point on the opposite wall. The younger CSI looked troubled, and he let out a deep, tired sigh. Nick knew concentration was going to be a feat if Greg didn't get rid of whatever was on his chest first.

"What's on your mind, Greg?" he queried wearily, in his typical Texan drawl.

Greg glanced up, blinking. "Oh, ah, nothing, I guess. I'm just… I don't know. I'm worried about Sara".

Nick sighed, running a hand flatly over the base of his skull. "Yeah. Join the club".

"So you ah, heard about what happened yesterday?" Greg asked slowly.

"I was there, I saw the whole thing".

Greg chewed his lip, lifting an eyebrow tentatively. "So, it's true then. She's… Sara's mom?"

Nick sighed, adjusting the microscope lens. "Yeah", he admitted softly.

They delved into a brief, uneasy silence. Greg seemed about as uncomfortable with the subject as Nick felt, and he didn't even know the full story.

"You working the case now?"

Nick nodded. "I think I may have something", he said, before lowering his eye to the lens. He frowned slightly. "Yeah, definitely."

"Let me see".

Nick straightened, frowning at Greg's slightly forceful tone, but he stepped back and let the younger man do so. He knew his concern for Sara was driving him, and he could certainly empathise with that.

"What does it look like to you?"

Greg looked up, smiling slightly. "It looks like nylon. From a blue sweater."

Nick smirked. "Say Greg… Here's an interesting proposition for you."

0000000000

"You know, I don't know how you talk me into this crap".

Nick smirked as he leant against the side of the dumpster, watching Greg as he sifted irritably through the piles of acrid smelling trash.

"Suck it up, Greggo. You wanna help Sara, then this is how you're doing it".

Greg rolled his eyes, rolling up his sleeves as they slipped down again. "And as fun as dumpster-diving is, I was thinking more along the lines of playing the consoling friend, maybe the shoulder to cry on, or, I don't know, nibble on…"

Nick chuckled, shining his flashlight over Greg's shoulder. "You never give up, do you, buddy?"

"Hey, I know my limits, my friend. I'm not allowed to fantasise?"

Nick smirked, leaning over to peer into the dumpster. "Got anything?"

He got a low growl in response. "Sure. I got a banana peel, a few half-eaten hamburgers _grossly_ over their use-by date – man, who would do that? - and oh, a whole bag of used diapers."

Nick winced, struggling to hold in a laugh despite the tenseness of the situation. Trust Greg to be able to make light of anything.

His eyes trailed over the surrounding street, which trailed behind the Jenson/Sutton house, and where he and Greg had located a vast array of community trash. Few houses still had their lights on, and the unnatural silence in the air was eerie. He unconsciously tugged on his LVPD vest, squinting back at Greg impatiently.

"C'mon, man, we haven't got all night".

Greg glanced back up at him from his crouch on the dumpster floor, as he tossed aside another unsecured garbage bag that jiggled treacherously when he lifted it. "Hey, why don't you just —aw, _man_!"

The contents spilled all over his knees, and he sighed deeply, deciding that this just wasn't his night.

He half-heartedly brushed the bulk of it off his jeans, sifting through objects slowly.

"So what do you think the deal is?" he asked Nick, in an attempt to fill the silence if anything else. Greg Sanders didn't do well with silence.

Nick shifted, eyeing him questioningly. "The deal with what?"

"Grissom. He doesn't look like he's handling this very well".

"Yeah, somehow that doesn't really surprise me".

Greg glanced back over his shoulder, frowning slightly. "Mr. Emotionally Stunted? C'mon, the guy's barely sleeping and he shows up at the office hours before shift. That doesn't seem strange to you?"

Nick shrugged listlessly. "Greg, I can't say I'll ever get Grissom, but this is Sara we're talking about. She always manages to affect him somehow".

Greg lifted an eyebrow, curious despite himself. "You don't think they ever—"

Nick shined his light pointedly in Greg's face. "Man, don't even go there, because I have no idea."

Greg blinked furiously, scowling at Nick. He turned back to the muddle of garbage in front of him, waiting for the jumble of lights to clear from his eyes. Stifling another deep sigh, he lifted aside another foul-smelling carton.

He stopped when a dark, soft shape caught his eye.

Please don't be a rat… 

He gingerly closed his gloved fingers around the object, and his brief inkling of fear was immediately replaced by a triumphant shout.

"I got a sweater!"

Nick craned over the edge of the dumpster, ignoring the putrid smell as he shined his flashlight closer. A dark stain covered the front of the garment. He smiled grimly.

"I got blood."

000000000000

"Jenson's brother is holding up their alibi, no surprise", Brass grunted as he strode into the lab break room, where Grissom was currently refilling on his fourth mug of coffee.

Grissom grimaced as he sipped the hot liquid, inwardly wondering where Greg had hidden his stash of Blue Hawaiian.

"Well, they were smart enough to wipe the poker clean", Grissom supplied, leaning against the counter. "There were no prints. And there was no probative trace evidence on the bodies. They died in that home, so we have to discount all of the fibres that lead there".

Brass made a sound of discontent. "Brilliant."

"I'd put a little more joy into that statement if I were you," Greg announced as he sauntered jovially into the room.

Brass lifted an eyebrow and wrinkled his nose at Greg distastefully. "Where have you been, Sanders, you smell like a trashcan".

Greg shot him a withering look, just as Nick strode into the room, carrying an evidence bag in his hand.

Grissom pushed away from the counter, studying the pair with newfound interest. "What have you got?"

Nick tapped the bag pointedly. "We have evidence that ties Louise Sutton to the crime", he explained, with somewhat less animation than Greg. "We found a sweater in the trash behind her house. There were hairs on it that confirm it was hers. Fibres from it were also in the lamp used as a murder weapon on Daniel Hett. And there's blood on the front that matches his DNA".

Grissom blinked, surprised by this sudden definitive evidence. Greg stood by, looking guardedly pleased, and Nick folded his arms, grimly satisfied.

"Good work, guys. This is… really good".

Brass nodded, flipping his cell phone out of his jacket. "I'll call an officer to escort Ms. Sutton down to the police station".

His disappeared out into the hall, carefully maintaining a stoic professionalism, but they could tell he was also secretly relieved.

Grissom frowned, staring intently down at the bag folded in Nick's grasp.

"What is it?" Nick questioned perceptively, nearly calling him boss before he mentally corrected the blunder.

Grissom sighed, looking tired and cautious. "This doesn't necessarily mean she killed them", he said warily. "She found the bodies. The blood could have gotten there that way."

Nick frowned, and he glanced at Greg with quiet disbelief. "Grissom… this is the best lead we've got so far. She had her hands on the murder weapon. That's a smoking gun".

Grissom tilted an eyebrow. "Will the DA see it that way?"

"She's a convicted murderer. It won't be hard to convince a jury she's guilty."

Grissom's features twisted into an indiscernible expression. "And if she isn't?"

Nick blinked, staring at Grissom slowly. To be fair the guy probably hadn't had any sleep for days, and wasn't functioning at his best, but he really didn't want to have to be the one to state the obvious here.

"Are you really hesitating because this isn't enough… or is this because of Sara?"

The graveshift supervisor's expression remained carefully cool, but Nick thought he saw a flicker of annoyance behind his sharp blue eyes and he reminded himself that it probably wasn't the best idea to get on the bad side of a sleep-deprived workaholic who happened to be his superior. Even if he was right.

"This is about the evidence, Nick", Grissom said in a low, carefully even tone of voice. "And we can't afford to make any mistakes with it".

Greg shifted uncomfortably in the corner, and his focus rapidly flickered from the two of them to something over their shoulders. He swallowed nervously, and both Grissom and Nick somehow came out of their tense standoff long enough to notice the shift in his composure.

Nick glanced towards the door, feeling an apprehensive sinking in his gut, to see Sara standing by, surveying them all levelly.

Nick inwardly winced, noting the cold stare she directed at the room.

"Uh, hey… Sara."

She had her hair pulled neatly back, and looked much more composed than the last time he saw her. She folded her arms over her chest and he couldn't tell what she was thinking. "You found something", she guessed evenly, features not belying her outward calm.

Nick hesitated, glancing at Grissom slowly. Grissom was frowning heavily, and the younger CSI didn't know who he was more annoyed at, Nick, for questioning him, or Sara, for walking in when she did.

"Yes, we did".

She nodded, meeting Grissom's gaze unwaveringly. "You're going to bring her in".

He cleared his throat, looking decidedly caught. "Yes".

She nodded again, and without another word, turned abruptly and strode back out of the room.

Greg blew out an unsteady breath, and Nick winced, glancing down at the evidence bag with a newfound fascination in an attempt to avoid the anger he was sure to see in Grissom's eyes.

He prided himself on being the most empathetic member of their extended team, and he had made two insensitive blunders in the space of a few days. He sighed deeply, glancing up reluctantly at Grissom.

The entomologist was barely looking at him, and was focused intensely on the path the departed brunette had taken not moments before.

Before Nick could speak up, Brass returned, pocketing his cell phone quickly.

"We have a problem", the detective announced briskly. "I sent an officer to their suite at the Palms. Louise Sutton and Clark Jenson are missing".

0000000000000

Sara steered off North Trop Boulevard onto the turnoff that led towards her apartment building, clenching her fingers unconsciously on the steering wheel. She focused on the red brakelights of the car in front of her, unwilling to consider what she had just heard.

Considering she had been limited to lab work after Grissom took her off the Hett case, she shouldn't feel guilty for leaving early, but she still did.

She just couldn't stay there, knowing that they were interrogating her mother, than there might just be enough evidence to prove that she had murdered again.

_I shouldn't be this surprised,_ she thought, shivering involuntarily. _Why am I so surprised?_

She shook her head, feeling a few loose strands escape from her ponytail, and she continued along, forcing her thoughts to focus doggedly on the road ahead in the fifteen minutes it took to reach her apartment.

As she parked in her assigned spot, her cellphone rang, and she slid it out of her pocket, glancing down at the lit monitor slowly. Gil Grissom. She let it ring a moment longer, before firmly turning it off and climbing out of the car.

Whatever he had to say could wait. She was in no mood to listen to him right now, when all she wanted to do was curl up in her apartment and pretend that the outside world didn't exist for a while. She was good at doing that.

She strode up to the second floor, sifting around in her handbag for her keys. Her neighbours were generally small families and elderly retirees, and she felt guilty for traipsing in at such an hour, so she tried to silence the jingle as best she could when she retrieved them.

She lowered them to the door, swiping the hair out of her eyes… and stopped. The doorknob turned in her hand. It was already open.

Sara frowned deeply, hesitantly lowering her keys to her side. _Did I forget to lock the door? _She wondered uneasily. _Was I that distracted?_

Even in the most harrying of situations, she thought forgetting such a menial task was unlikely, and she tensed as she strode inside, well aware that she had left her gun in her locker.

A lamp illuminated the purple walls of her living room, casting the room in a dull, muted light, and Sara stiffened noticeably. Sitting serenely on the sofa was the person she had least expected to see there.

"Hello Sara", Laura said softly.

000000000000


	7. Chapter 7

**Heroes and Villains: Chapter seven**

Sara backed up slowly, clutching her keys tensely in her hand. She felt her mouth go dry with sudden, unbidden fear, and she licked her lips, eyes darting around frantically. She reminded herself that the door was at her back, and she could bolt whenever she wanted to, and she pressed herself against it, eyeing Laura with mingled surprise and apprehension.

"What the hell do you want?"

It came out as less of a snarl and more a quiet plea, and Sara ground her teeth irritably at the pitifulness of the sound.

Laura remained sitting, exceeding a carefully unassuming air. Sara scowled. She could fool a lot of people, but she would never fool her.

"I'm not here to hurt you", her mother said levelly.

Sara scoffed. "Like you could", she muttered, edgily aware of the self-defence classes she'd taken in addition to her training.

"I want to talk, Sara", Laura said slowly. "That's all".

Sara remained where she was, clutching the back of the door like a lifeline. Laura slanted an eyebrow, examining her surroundings with the detached curiosity of an outsider.

"I always knew you had a hidden feminine side", she observed calmly, fingering the edge of the sofa vaguely.

Sara shifted, increasingly uncomfortable with the invasion of her own private space. "You're supposed to be in an interrogation. They're going to arrest you", she said firmly, allowing herself to close the door but not move away from its safety.

Laura looked unaffected, playing her fingers over the soft fraying edges of an Afghan over the back of the sofa. "Yes, I thought they might".

"Where's your boyfriend?" Sara asked stoically, unwilling to let her surprise show at Laura's lack of reaction.

Laura shrugged calmly. "He left Nevada. We thought it would be best".

Sara frowned at her uncomprehendingly. "Why didn't you?"

Laura shrugged slowly. "I had some… unfinished business to address."

Sara crinkled her brow, palms sweating profusely at her sides. This entire situation was unsettling. She remembered she'd turned off her cellphone, and wondered if she could discreetly reach for it without alerting Laura of her intentions.

Laura glanced at her as if reading her thoughts. "If you'd like to call your boss, I won't stand in your way", she said evenly, eyeing Sara shrewdly. "I just thought you'd like to hear what I have to say first".

Sara swallowed, deeply confused. She slowly paced across the room, stopping by her breakfast nook.

"What do you want?" she repeated quietly.

Laura sighed, and showed the first flickering of emotion Sara had seen her exhibit since they met. "I want… to know my daughter."

Sara clenched her palms into fists, nails digging painfully into her skin. "You have no right to know me", she spat angrily.

Laura shrugged, flicking back her long brown hair. "No, I suppose I don't. But despite what you may think of me, I am still your mother, Sara. And I want you to understand that I'm not the woman I was when you were a child".

Sara leant back against the counter in disbelief. "Right. You're not the same. You didn't murder those men just like you didn't murder Chris."

Laura licked her lips. "I killed him to protect you, Sara".

Sara's whole expression contorted angrily. "You never did anything for me! You did this for yourself. You haven't changed. You're still as selfish as you always were and I can't believe I actually thought that you had."

Laura rose to her modest height, watching her daughter patiently. "I was young, Sara. Very young. I was a weak person. I still am, I admit that. I relied on men for everything, even when they hurt us. Chris betrayed me and that gave me an excuse, but it didn't mean that's why I did it. Going to prison was the best thing that could have happened, because it got you away from both of us."

Sara stared at her. "You really think foster care was the best thing that could have happened to me?" She shook her head with a small scoff. "That's not why you're here. You want me to forgive you. You want someone to justify what you did, that time and this time."

A small smile tugged at Laura's lips. "I don't need your forgiveness. I just want you to understand."

She glanced around Sara's apartment again, looking thoughtful. "I wasn't supposed to be a mother, Sara", she said evenly.

Sara blinked at her. She hadn't been expecting that.

Laura nodded. "I wonder, though", she mused as she went on, completely oblivious to Sara's surprise. "Is that why you're like this?" She gestured around. "In your thirties, with no husband, no children of your own? Are you afraid to become me?"

Sara clenched her jaw painfully. She didn't want to hear this. "I'm nothing like you".

Laura smiled sadly. "Are you sure?"

Sara felt her heart hammering in her chest as Laura fixed her calm, dark brown eyes on hers. What was this? One finally hurrah before she went back to prison, screw up the kid who she'd already screwed up to begin with? She knew her mother was an intelligent woman, even if she hadn't used it for anything resourceful. That part of her was in her genes, and she didn't like it. Is that what she was doing? Playing psychological mid-games?

Laura blinked slowly, watching her shrewdly. "Do you really think that I'm here just to hurt you?"

Sara stared back at her, feeling a burning deep in her throat. "I really don't know", she murmured quietly.

Laura shook her head, brown hair sliding back over her shoulders. She slowly paced the length of Sara's living room, pausing on the edge of the carpet.

"Don't let the past consume you, Sara", she said softly. "I haven't".

Sara felt her nails stab painfully into her palms before she realised she was doing it. She blew out a disbelievingly scoff, unnerved by her words all the same.

"Somehow, I doubt that".

They stared at each other, intensity buzzing through the air between them. Sara, who prided herself on being in control, had never felt so powerless about a situation in her life, and she eyed her mother tensely.

Sharp, insistent knocks thudded at the door, and both women flinched slightly at the sudden disruption of charged silence. Sara cleared her throat, eyeing Laura uneasily.

"It's open".

Without missing a beat, Grissom swiftly swung through the door, striding tensely inside. His gaze travelled rapidly between the two of them, finally resting on distrustfully on her mother.

She felt herself sagging back against the counter slightly, unconsciously allowing some measure of relief to overcome her.

"Grissom", she murmured, comforted by his sudden presence.

He eyed her carefully, stoic expression betraying nothing. His blue eyes, however, were a storm of conflicted emotion, and she swallowed under their unequivocal intensity.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, glancing briefly at Laura. "Yeah".

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Laura's lips as she gazed between them silently.

"The police are right behind me", Grissom informed her curtly, blue eyes narrowed and cold. Sara swallowed, distantly thinking she had never seen him look so angry.

Laura nodded easily. "I have no intention of going anywhere, Mr. Grissom".

Grissom pursed his lips, nodding firmly. She noticed his hand strayed protectively over his jacket, which she knew concealed his gun. He didn't trust that she was willing to come so easily, and Sara couldn't blame him. She didn't know why Laura was willingly giving in, but she believed that she was being honest about that one thing.

It wasn't long before they heard heavy footsteps down the hall, and Brass instantly appeared in the doorway, an armed officer not far behind.

The detective narrowed his eyes dangerously as he gazed between Grissom and Sara, before firmly landing on Laura. He gestured coldly to the officer behind him, who immediately produced a set of handcuffs.

"Louise Sutton, you're under arrest."

000000000000

Sara swallowed, sagging down onto the edge of her sofa, bracing her body unsteadily on the edge. She thought she should be crying, shaking, _anything_ after the ordeal that she had dreaded and dreamt about since she was a child, but all she felt was a deep numbness.

Grissom had followed Brass outside, but he reappeared now in the fringes of her vision, pausing awkwardly at the edge of her living room.

"Sara", he prompted gently.

She blinked, slowly lifting her chin to glance up at him. Her eyes were wide and impossibly dark in her soft, debonair features, and the loose ponytail she had tugged her hair into exposed the elongated shape of her graceful neck. In her vulnerability, her beauty was more than apparent, and Grissom had to swallow against the sudden, overwhelming feeling welling inside.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded, eyes drifting back down to study the carpet. "I'm fine", she said lowly. "I'm just surprised that I am".

Grissom folded his arms, hesitantly perching on the armchair beside her. "What did she say to you?"

She shrugged distantly. "Nothing... I… I just can't believe she gave in like that. After everything it just felt so…"

"Anti-climatic?" Grissom supplied gently.

She managed a small, ironic smile. "Yeah". She blinked, glancing at him. "How did you, um, know she would be here?"

Grissom glanced down, linking his fingers absently on his knees. "Just a feeling".

"Well thanks… for coming. I'm not really sure what would have happened… if you didn't".

He nodded, expression unreadable. "Of course".

She nodded, licking her lips as she glanced down again.

"Have you found… Jenson?"

Grissom sighed deeply. "Not yet. Highway patrol is searching all along the stateline. They will soon".

She looked distracted and he wondered exactly what had happened here. "Good. I hope they do".

He frowned, aware that he often had difficulty displaying the correct amount of sensitivity in these situations. "Sara…"

She lifted her head, meeting his gaze staunchly. "Don't ask me what happened", she said darkly. "It's over, she's gone. Maybe now my life can just go back to normal".

She rose abruptly to her feet, crossing to the kitchen niche where she firmly turned her back to him, and concentrated on making herself some tea.

Grissom hesitated, knowing that this was his cue to leave. He surprised himself by not wanting to.

He slowly strode across the room to the corner of the breakfast bar, watching the rigid lines of her back as Sara poured water into her kettle and placed it on the gas stove. He placed his palms on the edge of the cold Formica, biting his lip thoughtfully.

"If you need anything… just give me a call, okay?"

Sara's head lifted slightly, as if surprised he would make such a personal offer, and he realised that something so simple and friendly _was_ an odd occurrence between them. A deep sadness overcame him as he became conscious of the extent their friendship had deteriorated.

She didn't turn, or acknowledge that she had heard his gentle gesture in any other way, and he sighed, turning reluctantly for the door.

As his feet fell soundlessly on the carpet and into the hall, he glanced back at her briefly. He didn't know if she knew that her hands were shaking.

0000000000

The door to the interrogation room stood tall and foreboding at the end of the seemingly endless corridor, and Grissom inwardly sighed, clutching the folder a little tighter to his chest as he resolutely strode forward.

A plain-faced young officer nodded to him from the side of the entrance, and Grissom nodded back briskly, striding inside.

For the first time in his lengthy career, he found his objectivity genuinely faltering. His eyes slowly came upon Laura Sidle, who would always be Laura Sidle despite any alterations on paper, and his fingers clutched the plastic folder almost painfully as he lowered it to his side.

Even the most relaxed serial killers had never looked so much in their natural environment, completely unaffected by the institutional ambience of their surroundings, and it unnerved him in a way he refused to reveal on his expression.

Abruptly, he crossed to the hard steel chair directly across from her, and sat down, sitting forward calmly without a flicker of true emotion on his indifferent features.

"Clark Jenson was picked up a few miles outside of Vegas", he informed her evenly. Perhaps the mention of her lover would distract her slightly. "He didn't get far".

She nodded, leaning back calmly. "It was a risk he chose to take".

He slanted an eyebrow slightly. "Perhaps you would like to hear what evidence we have against you?"

She shrugged. "If it makes you feel better."

He refused to be baited. He nodded. "Fibres from your clothing were located on the murder weapon", he started.

She pursed her lips. "Which one?"

Grissom frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Which murder weapon?"

"You do realise you're only incriminating yourself further by admitting you know that?"

She shrugged. "Mr. Grissom, I thought I already made myself clear. I'm willing to admit to everything you ask. I'm not going to hide anything."

Grissom was genuinely perplexed. He couldn't quite believe it was going to be that easy. He leant back in his chair, folding his hands in a gesture of expectancy. "All right. Tell me what happened".

Laura nodded, tilting her head. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, as she considered how to begin, in such a show of complete of co-operation it caught him off-guard. "Of course", she said calmly.

"Charlie Hett contacted us several times; about the money Clark's father left him", she started unflappably. "Made idle threats, that sort of thing. Clark returned his calls, as you know, and told him to leave us alone. Charlie claimed he would sue, and bring our seedy pasts into the courtroom. With us against him, we couldn't hope to win, and he knew that."

She licked her lips, gazing at something on the far wall. "Clark decided that we would have to take matters into our own hands. He planned everything; the vacation, the false alibi. He gave his brother a lot of money, but I'm sure you already know that. Of course we didn't count on the flight delay, which changed our original plan a little. It didn't matter much. We met the Hetts at out house. We told them we were prepared to make a compromise. I don't really know why Charlie agreed to come… maybe he thought he could take some drastic action himself."

She shrugged. "We got into a struggle. We used weapons of convenience. Our plan wasn't really that thought out. That was probably our undoing, don't you agree?"

Grissom eyed her disbelievingly. "You risked returning to prison for _money_?"

Laura blinked at him, and a small frown actually settled on her face. "I didn't do it for the money. I did it for Clark".

Grissom looked at her, frowning for the first time. "Ms… Sutton, you do realise that Clark will be prosecuted for first-degree murder? He could get the death penalty in Nevada. And you will probably spend the remainder of your life in jail."

He turned his head slightly. "If you could have done anything for Clark, don't you think you could have talked him out of it?"

Laura glanced at him, dark brown eyes intensely focused on his. "Have you ever been in love, Mr. Grissom?" When he didn't respond, she smiled sadly. "Love will drive you to unimaginable things."

Grissom lifted an eyebrow slowly. "'Murder is born of love, and love attains the greatest intensity in murder'", he quoted, doubtfully.

Her smile grew slightly. "Murder attains the greatest intensity in love."

She studied him perceptively, and he sensed an immediate shift in her composure. It made him wary.

"Relationships with subordinates are discouraged in your line of work, aren't they, Mr. Grissom?" she asked softly.

Grissom met her gaze levelly; uncomfortable with the sudden direction she was headed. He was aware this interrogation was more than adequately over, yet he couldn't make himself rise from his chair. "Yes, they are", he returned frostily, after a pause.

She nodded wisely. "And yet, you still have feelings for her, don't you?"

Grissom blinked back at her impassively, unable to help but ask the question. "For who?"

Laura sighed impatiently. "Denying the things you want only makes them more obvious to others. In your line of work, you should know that."

"I don't know what you mean."

She smirked in genuine amusement. "Yes, you do. You're in love with my daughter."

Grissom swallowed involuntarily, startled by hearing something he had never even expressed in his thoughts uttered so bluntly.

"But something… holds you back. Is it your job, the fact that you're her boss? You said it was discouraged, not forbidden. Is it your age? Does that really matter in today's society?"

She lifted an eyebrow pointedly. "What is it? What is so important it keeps you from the thing you want?"

Grissom stared at her, unable to look away, never before feeling so exposed. Sara had always had the ability to make him feel vulnerable, but with her mother, it was another situation entirely.

"I can't… be what she wants", he murmured, at last.

Laura looked satisfied by his honesty and crossed her legs nonchalantly. "And what is it that you think she wants? Sara needs to be loved. That's all. That's something you can do, something that I never could".

"It's more complicated that you think it is".

"Is it?" she said, scoffing slightly. "Or are you just making it that way? Tell me, _do_ you love her?"

He crinkled his brow, sweating profusely. "Yes", he admitted hoarsely.

She nodded. "That's all it has to be about. Maybe you should remember that, Mr. Grissom."

He licked his lips, not bothering to say anything in response.

In the shadows of the observation room, Sara leant back unsteadily, staring vacantly into the room.

The swell of indignation, disbelief and elation mingled in her chest, and she stepped back slowly. She didn't think she could breathe, and ran a hand shakily through her hair, realising that the words she had just heard were really not some bizarre fantasy playing out in her head.

0000000000


	8. Chapter 8

**Heroes and Villains: Chapter eight**

Sara watched numbly as her mother finished speaking, and Grissom slowly gestured the officer inside to lead her away.

The irony of the situation didn't fail to hit her, as she realised she stood in the exact same position she had when Grissom told a murder suspect he couldn't have her.

She was barely thinking by the time she fled the observation room, and whirled rapidly down the hall, not stopping until she reached the warm safety of her car, and slid behind the wheel.

She sagged back in her seat slowly, shaking so much she knew she would never be able to twist the key in the ignition successfully.

This was… too much. It really was. Of all people, her mother had persuaded Grissom to utter such a confession, and Sara didn't know if she had known she would be watching and it would be some added torment, or whether her target had been entirely Grissom.

"God…" she hissed, sucking in a deep, painful breath.

_I can't handle this._

_Does this really change anything? He still thinks he can't do it. _

_Of course it changes things. It changes everything. He said he _loves_ you. _

She drew in a deep breath, sitting forward slowly. There was really only one way to handle this, and she had to do it soon, or it would be too painful later. Straightening resolutely, she started the engine, backing out of the lot.

_It has to be done. _

00000000000

Grissom sighed deeply as he let himself into his office, and slumped into his chair.

The interview with Sara's mother had been draining if nothing else, if not only for shattering Sara's previous fragile faith in her mother's innocence, but also for the feelings it evoked.

_If an outsider can come in and pick apart the last five years like they were nothing, then what does everybody else see?_

He remembered both Warrick and Catherine's earlier advice, and it made him uneasy now when he realised he hadn't been fooling anybody.

He buried his face against his palm, uttering another deep, long suffering sigh. It was still early on in shift, but he supposed he could go home now. They had their perps, and now the only task was follow-up paperwork, which could definitely wait another night. Besides, it looked like everyone else had already gone.

"Wow, you like look hell".

He resisted lowering his head to his desk. Of course _she_ was still here.

"Thank you, Catherine", he said dryly.

She scoffed slightly, vaguely pacing into the room as she idly fingered some of his specimens. "So I hear congratulations are in order", she said drolly. "You caught your suspect".

"I'm not sure that's a good thing".

Catherine paused, eyeing him nonchalantly. "Gil… Sara must have known it was likely that she was guilty. She would have prepared for the worst."

"Mmm", he responded noncommittally.

She rolled her eyes at his lack of response. "When are you going to learn, Grissom?" she muttered with a blunt edge to her voice, spinning and leaving him his solace again.

Grissom frowned at her departure, bothered by what she had meant with that comment. He was too exhausted to ponder it now, and absently straightened his desk, rising to retrieve his jacket.

For the first time he could remember, he could finally acknowledge his feelings for Sara in his mind. He had always known they were complex and profound, but he had never allowed himself to realise how deep they really were. Love was a foreign concept to him, but he couldn't use his lack of experience as an excuse in recognising it. He had always felt differently for Sara, even if he was frustrated, angry or upset. He always unconsciously separated her from their other colleagues in his mind, and he _always_ separated her from other women.

Sara was unique. Special. He could admit he wanted her on a physical level, and until this very moment, he had contented himself with that being his only real motivation. She was a younger, attractive subordinate, and desiring her from afar was natural. It was all he could ever do.

He should have known it would never be that easy.

Grissom strode wearily into his expansive townhouse, the jingle of his keys echoing in the vast space as they clinked on the counter. It occurred to him, not for the first time, how unnecessarily large the place seemed, a concept that had not occurred to him at the time he bought it.

Sighing, he slid out of his jacket, running a hand vaguely though his greying curls before moving around the counter to brew himself some tea. The routine movements required just enough consideration that they distracted his jumbled momentarily, but not for long enough.

Despite the weariness compounded from the last several days, his mind and body together were buzzing with a restless energy that he knew sleep would not be able to rectify. Usually, it was an energy he funnelled into his work, but tonight, he couldn't muster up the enthusiasm.

He could admit, rather grudgingly, that Ecklie's manoeuvres the last few months had quelled the previous passion he had for his job, but it still felt odd to harbour no desire to bury himself in work. It was his escape and the fact that it was the last thing he felt like doing right now rested uneasy in his mind.

Heaving another weary sigh, he settled on his sofa with the latest forensic journal, and attempted to read.

It was three-thirty am when his doorbell rang.

He paused, glancing up with a frown. Only his work colleagues called on him, if ever, and there were certainly few who would dare to come by at this hour.

_I guess Catherine wasn't done with her lecture earlier. _

Stifling an irritated scowl at her complete disregard for his desire at solitude, he reluctantly crossed to the door.

Sara Sidle lifted her eyes from the patch of door she had been studying with an unusual amount of intensity, brown gaze soft and unreadable as it met with his.

The sight of her beautiful, debonair features washed in distant streetlight so soon after his unbidden confession startled him, and he stared at her uncertainly.

She was so similar to her mother in ways, and yet so different to her as well. She had the same sharp intellect and graceful beauty, yet Sara seemed utterly untouched by sin or malice he could almost completely disassociate the two. But the past had made its mark on her, and he had all too often seen the hauntedness colour her eyes without understanding its meaning.

He stared at her, blue eyes sharp and questioning, pondering her presence with puzzlement, and a certain level of fear now he had managed to acknowledge his inward feelings.

_I could never tell her that, could I?_

"Hi", she said softly, eyes focused on his.

He licked his lips hesitantly, frowning slightly. "Hi".

She tilted her head in the direction of his living room, expression oddly calm and in control. "We need to talk".

He stepped back, and she slid purposefully past him, turning slowly in the middle of the room so she was facing him, eyes levelled back at him firmly.

Grissom cleared his throat, unused to having her in his personal space, and realising rather uncomfortably that he didn't mind her there one bit. Just because he could admit he was in love with her, did not mean he was making the transition easily.

"Is something wrong, Sara?"

She lifted her chin, but the rest of her body stood firm and impassive, whether intentional or necessary, he wasn't sure.

"I've… done a lot of thinking lately", she started thoughtfully. "I guess if there's one thing I can give my mother credit for, it's that."

She pursed her lips, as if contemplating her next words. Her boldness had definitely never taken her this far before, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit. "I've been thinking about my life, and what I have to show for it", she said carefully. "It's not much, really. I mean, I've got a great career, but most people my age have more than that. A family, kids. I never really wanted kids, but I kind of thought all that stuff would just fall into place one day. And you know, I just started wondering why don't I let myself have any of that, just because of a stupid job".

Grissom blinked, dumbfounded by her sudden, unexpected confession. He had a sinking feeling in his gut. "Sara… just because your mother… _scared_ you, is no reason to leave the lab".

She actually laughed a little as she leant slightly back against his sofa, but the sound was sad. "Grissom, I'm not leaving the lab. I'm trying to tell you something here."

He was confused. "Okay".

She sighed, seeing he was not taking the hint. "Grissom… I think you know what I'm talking about".

Grissom leant back against the counter unconsciously, eyeing her nervously. "Sara…"

"We both know that this… _thing_ between us isn't going away", she said quietly. "It's there, whether you want to admit it or not. I know you don't want to talk about it, you never do, but I'm tired of working my life around it. I'm tired of… holding back because of it. I deserve better than that."

Grissom knew this conversation would come up some day, but he was in no way prepared for it today, of all days. "Sara, I don't think it's a good idea to –"

"You said you're in love with me".

Grissom blinked, instantly paling. "What—?"

"I heard you. In the observation room." She scoffed humourlessly. "You're in _love_ with me, and my mother knew it before I did".

He narrowed his eyes slightly, voice low and gruff. "So that's why you came here".

Sara stepped forward from the back of the sofa, eyes narrowed. "What did you _expect_, Grissom? That I would just forget something like that? I'm not some… _toy,_ that you can just turn on an off whenever you please. I… _God_, I've had feelings for you for years, and you knew it, and even after you knew this, you didn't want me".

Grissom's expression actually crinkled into one of annoyance. She had sprung this conversation on him unexpectedly, and she knew he was uncomfortable with them to begin with. She was playing this by her rules and he didn't like it. "That's not… This is a lot more complicated than that, Sara".

She rolled her eyes. He realised they had made the shift from boss and subordinate to man and woman a few sentences ago, and it filled him with unease. In the workplace, he had the control. Outside of that, Sara had power over him she would never completely understand. He was reluctant to give _anyone_ that kind of sway over him, and if she realised it, he was done.

"Right. What was it you said? You can't be what I need? What does that _mean_, Grissom? What could I possibly _want_ that you can't give to me? Do you think so little of me that I…" She closed her eyes, looking away.

"You look for validation in inappropriate places", Grissom said quietly. "Isn't that what you said?"

Sara glanced up at him sharply. She drew in a huff, clenching her jaw tightly, and he thought he saw a flicker of hurt come into her eyes. "I wasn't talking about you. I would never… " She ducked her head, hair falling in a darkened curtain around her face. She sighed deeply, deflating slightly. "I know you think the feelings I have for you are just some passing crush, that they're going to go away. That why should you… invest yourself in something when I'm probably not worth it anyway.

"But tell me why I would waste so much of my life pining over something I knew I couldn't have, if it didn't really matter that much to me."

Grissom swallowed, and the room grew silent. Good she looked so hopeless and… utterly defeated. She glanced up at him, and her eyes were sparkling slightly, whether from the light, or her hidden tears, he couldn't tell. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know he could hurt her that badly.

She shook her head, shifting, the last of the indomitable passion ebbed from her voice. "Forget it. I'm going. I can't… be here anymore."

She started to walk towards the door, and paused beside him, glancing at him slowly. "I guess you don't care… that I love you too".

His heart seized painfully in his chest, and by the time her words registered in his mind she was almost at the door. Her fingers closed around the knob before he clutched her around the wrist, turning her to face him abruptly.

"Sara…"

The warmth of her slender frame infused his own she was so close, and he realised she had her back pinned against the door. She swallowed, brown orbs glancing at him uncertainly.

She tilted her head, lifting her hand slowly to slide her smooth fingers over the rough line of his jaw. His skin reacted almost immediately to the intimacy of the touch, and before she could speak, he pressed his lips to hers; silencing any attempts she might have to appease him, as he knew she was once again preparing to do.

Sara was caught momentarily by surprise as he gently probed her lips, fingers sliding over the softness of her hair, palm clinging limply to the side of his face.

If he had been distracted by mere thoughts of her, physical contact was his undoing, and he found his initial hesitancy replaced with raw, pent-up urgency, unsure if he was just having an incredibly vivid hallucination or not, and not caring if he was, because this was Sara and he was kissing her and he just needed her so much…

Sara was so soft and warm against him, and her lips were so plaint and sweet, the fantasies he had allowed himself in his weaker moments were nothing compared to the raw, vibrant reality of Sara Sidle.

Sara felt herself responding to him despite her strong resolve to walk out of there in utter defeat, determined to go on with the rest of her life, even if it meant he was not in it.

How quickly her mind changed. The simple touch of Gil Grissom's hand had her wielding to his every desire, and she would have easily done anything for him at that moment, if only to prolong the contact between them further.

His beard tickled her cheek lightly, a sensation that was completely arousing and caused her to moan involuntarily against his lips.

She had never believed he would act so impulsively, and for the first time since she heard the words, she allowed herself to feel elation at their meaning. _Grissom _loves_ me!_

Drawing in a deep breath, Grissom drew his head away, breathing heavily. Both of them blinked at each other in the sudden silence of the room, unable to believe that after years of sidestepping and feigned ignorance, that something so undeniable had finally taken place between them.

"Sara", Grissom breathed unsteadily, and she knew the recrimination was coming, even when she could see the heat in his gaze. "I…"

Sara leant forward again, suddenly bolstered with longing, cutting off any meaningless protests or attempts at stilted denial. "Shut up".

Grissom didn't protest or pull away, and Sara clutched the front of his shirt, tugging him into her. Grissom went willingly, unconsciously pressing her against the door with such masculine possession a small whimper escaped her lips, and he instantly clutched her more tightly, rough stubble tickling her flesh as he burned a trail of kisses down from her lips and down her neck.

A grunt escaped him as her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape, and a thrill shot through him, unlike any sensation he had ever experienced when riding rollercoasters or solving crimes. It was intense and overwhelming and allowed himself to give into it completely, relishing the feeling of Sara in his arms. For a man so intelligent, he couldn't believe he had denied himself something that felt so good for so long.

Sara was an adventure he had resisted pursuing for years, and while he had always known the risks were varied, he had never considered how much he had forgone his own happiness for such an unnecessary fear.

Her hands were warm as they pressed against his chest, and his tongue tangled fiercely with hers, starting an intense exploration that had no restraint or hesitancy like it had before.

Sara's slender frame arched into him, and she felt such an exquisite ecstasy as he pressed her more securely into the door, aware that this was Grissom who was assaulting her with such unrestrained passion, and she didn't mind one bit.

His fingers trailed over hers, tangling them together against his chest, and he knew she could feel the rapid thudding of his heartbeat. When they pulled away again, Grissom lowered his face to nestle against her hair, breathing in the scent of her as he allowed the true depth of the situation to overwhelm him.

He gently caressed her palm with his thumb, and Sara sighed, allowing him the silent chance to regroup. He softly ran his other hand over her hair, a way to allow himself to soothe away her hurt and fear with a loving affection he knew he only had the ability to give to her.

Grissom realised he did love her, deeply, and he knew there was no way he would ever be able to refuse her again.

"Grissom?" she murmured softly, shifting his head against her so her wide brown orbs met his.

"God", he muttered hoarsely. "Sara I… I want this so much".

She smiled slightly, uncertainly, and his gaze held an intense promise that infused her with hope. "Me too".

When they kissed again, there were no more words, and the past became a steady blur as they moved towards a newer, brighter future, one that had both of them in it, together.

**FIN**


End file.
